Lethal Romance
by XxTigerlilyxX
Summary: Born and raised in the rough bluntness of District Two, Cato and Clove stumble upon each other and weave a web of romance so enticingly hot and abhorrently cold it's breathtakingly lethal.
1. Chapter 1

Lethal Romance

Chapter 1:

The room is dark as night, the sky outside it a large expanse of black.

All is silent until an alarmed cry escapes a maiden's lips, as her husband pushes her on the silky soft mattress, lust evident in his eyes.

"No, Kegger – stop, please…" Moans the women, placing a hand atop his, "I'm not ready yet…"

"Yes, yes you are." Grunts the man, frantically unbuttoning her top, "What is there to be afraid of?"

She swallows, a lump appears and disappears in her throat as fast as lightning, "I…It's too soon after my games." She says, her voice barely a whisper, "The mutts…the faces…I don't want to bring another child into the world to suffer the same fate."

"Yelena," Instructs Kegger, looking directly at her, "Mutts will be slayed, faces forgotten, the arena forever a memory of glory and triumph. You and I both made it out of the games, in different years of course, our children will know to do the same thing."

Silence falls again, only momentarily, than Kegger's soft alluring voice slicks over Yelena's years, "What is there to be afraid of?"

Yelena murmurs a sigh of consent, for a moment all her worries and nightmares were gone, chased away by Kegger's smooth calming voice. She was reminded of this man's charm, which was what had initially attracted her to him, so she allowed him to do what he wanted.

Xxx xxx xxx

Five years later, a happy women with hair a mixture of blonde and brown, walked through the gardens of the victor house, hand in hand with a small brown haired girl who was wearing a blue hat and a sundress that fluttered with the wind.

"Mummy – what are those?" Questioned the girl, pointing to a row of flowers.

"Geranium's," Answered her mother, picking one off the stem and giving it to the girl, whose face lit up with delight as she touched it's petals.

After a while, she said, "What are those?" Pointing to another row of flowers, varying in red, oranges, yellows and pinks.

"Chrysanthemums." Replied Yelena, as her daughter broke one from its stem with a clear crisp snap. The girl took a sniff,

"They smell nice." She commented, smiling.

"Yes, they do. They help chase away bad memories." Her mother replied, her voice stiffening just a notch.

"What sort of bad memories?" Asked her daughter, oblivious.

"I'll tell you some other day." Replied Yelena vaguely, directing the girl's attention to another patch of flowers. "Tell me what these are," She said, nodding at them.

The girl took a good look; they were small plants that didn't really look like flowers, with the ugliest petals she'd ever seen. "Urgh. They're ugly." She said, voicing her thoughts.

"They're clovers. They're what you're named after." Replied her mother a moment later, "Yes, they do look a bit rough, but that's because clovers aren't born to be pretty. They were born to survive, and survive they will. You can find them almost anywhere as long as there's water and soil." She said.

"Oh…" Said the five-year old Clove, "Well they don't look so bad afterall."

Her mother laughed, and pretty soon Clove was joining in. The wind carried their happy laughter across the trees. Suddenly a blue straw hat, with a glossy blue ribbon around the brim flew up into the air, propelled by the same gust of wind.

"Oh dear…" Murmured Yelena, watching the hat fly up in the air. She didn't think to chase after it, knowing full well that she could easily afford another one, but it was Clove's troubled voice that changed her mind.

"Mummy – my hat! Go get it for me!"

And with that, Yelena sprinted across the lawn, quickly sliding the latch to the side gate open, she was barely two steps across the road when the blur of a car hit her. The noises of heavily screeching tires filled the air.

Even as young as she was, instinctively, Clove knew something was wrong. "Mother?" She called, running outside the gate, but when the familiar figure of her mother failed to make an appearance, she panicked, "Mother!"

Her screams pierced the air, followed by the rush of sirens, and the throb of numerous voices. Pretty soon her vision was blurred by tears, she felt the strong arms of her father pick her up from behind, then all was black.

Xxx xxx xxx

"Daddy – is mum coming home from the hospital today?" Asked Clove for the umpteenth time. It had been two weeks since the accident, and Clove had been told her mother was in hospital, undergoing severe surgery and recovering, and every day, she persisted to ask her father the same question, repetitively, as if the more she asked, the higher the likelihood he'll say yes.

Her father wiped his mouth on a napkin, and dropped it daintily on the breakfast table, "Yes. We're going to pick her up from the hospital after breakfast today."

Clove felt her heart skip a beat, and a swirl of happiness rising within, as if there was a dark cloud over the sun, which was just drifting away now, and the brilliant light coming back.

When they arrived in the blinding white rooms of the hospital, the doctor led Clove and her father up the elevator and through several doorways until they arrived in a dim blue room, with a curtain around the silhouette of a bed, Clove was certain that it contained her mother.

"Sir, may I have a private word with you?" Asked the doctor, leading Clove's father out of Clove's earshot.

Xxx xxx xxx

"How's the operation? Any physical injuries?" Asked Kegger the moment they were out of earshot, Kegger gave his same intense blue eyed stare at the doctor who looked away uncomfortably, aware that this was 56th Hunger Games victor.

"No physical injuries sustained. However, she has amnesia. We haven't tested the extent of that amnesia, but we predict she's lost memory of the past five years."

"So…will she remember me?" Asked Kegger, allowing his eyes to sweep over to the silhouette of the bed, which was still covered by the curtain.

"Did you know her five years ago?" Probed the doctor, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes I did, we married just one year before that."

"Good, but be warned, she'll have the same mindset as she did, five years ago, and ever since she's awakened from her coma, she's been a little mentally unstable." Here the doctor flinched, as if afraid of whatever accusation or threat would be thrown at him for not bringing the 53th Hunger Games victor back to full health.

But Kegger just shrugged. Taking this action as an action of disbelief or shock, as if the news hadn't settled into Kegger yet, the doctor hurriedly added, "But we can recommend intense therapy to fix her issues. There's no guarantee her memory will ever come back, but with a bit – a lot, of therapy we can get her to a stage of acceptance." The doctor explained.

Kegger nodded in understanding, "Right. Can I see her now."

Xxx xxx xxx

Clove was dimly aware of her father and the doctor's shadows across the cold tiled floor, she barely felt her father's fingertips brush against her arm as he grabbed her, and led her to the bed, she only looked up when the doctor pressed a remote controlled button, and the curtains were slowly swept aside.

Disappointment arose when Clove discovered it was not her mother, only another patient. A thin, lanky women with bags under her eyes chained to the hospital bed.

"Father – where's mother?" She asked sombrely.

"This is her." He replied, his voice malevolently smooth as always.

Suddenly the women opened her eyes in a snap and screamed, her arms shook as she attempted to move them from the chains that held her. Her whole body shook, and Clove trembled in response, this couldn't be her mother…could it?

"What are these? What are these mutts?" Wailed the women, her chains rattled more as she tried to point to Clove and her father, but in the end she just opted for nodding her head at them.

"These are not mutations. He," Said the doctor, pointing very clearly to Kegger, "Is your husband."

Yelena just trembled some more, "I…I thought we were engaged?" She said, her voice quivering, "Wait…the wedding…was there ever a wedding?" She muttered, her voice all light and eerie as she looked quizzingly at Kegger.

"And this." Said the doctor, making wild exaggerated moments to Clove, "Is your daughter."

Clove waited for her mother's eager response, waited for her mother to calm down and talk to her about the flowers and the clovers again, but to her surprise, her mum only screamed some more and shut her eyes, a thin inaudible chant issued from under her breath.

"Mother…it's me." Clove whispered, hurt.

Her mother only screamed, "It's the game maker's trick! It's a hallucination! I have no daughter!"

When her hands began tearing at the cold metal of the hospital bed, and everything that came within contact with her fingernails, the doctor pressed a series of buttons, and a sleeping drug was issued into the women as the curtains swept shut.

"She will need very, intensive therapy." Was all he said.

Xxx xxx xxx

The only thing there was to match the rhythm of Clove's thinking, was the steady drip drip of the water from the tap, splashing softly into the lukewarm sheen of bathwater that she was currently sitting in.

Her father was in the bathroom, sitting in a small wooden chair, hands pressed against his face in a dejected motion as he occasionally stuck his hand in the water, or passed Clove a sponge.

Tentatively, very tentatively, Clove looked up – she hadn't looked at his father since he came home and drank himself silly from a bottle, now she was almost afraid to look into his azure blue eyes, but she forced herself to. She also forced herself to steady the trembling in her voice, but the trembling in her heart she couldn't do anything about. A shaky breath ran through her lungs, as she reached out for comfort, anything. "Dad." She said, her voice cracking a bit, "I…I miss mum."

It was a while before he looked up, and when he did, his blue eyes – looking navy in this dim light focused so strongly on her, that Clove felt a chilling cold feeling seep over her.

"You know what, I miss her too." He said, his voice thick with alcohol. But there was something about his voice, something in his tone, that scared Clove even more, it was the same words, but he said it differently to how she said it.

Suddenly there was a glint in his eyes, and her father staggered over, he began to touch her in places that made her very uncomfortable. His raspy laughter echoed throughout the bathroom, and her skin tinged in the places he touched, it felt like it went on for centuries. That time had stopped, or surrealism and reality had merged.

Images swam in Clove's mind, her father's drunken laugh echoed in her ears, and once she found herself staring up at the ceiling from underneath the bathwater. She wasn't sure whether she was dreaming or not until she woke up for real, and found herself lying in the now ice cold water, with the absence of her father.

She felt different, very different. She took a quaky breath, the cold air steadied her lungs, and intensified her emotions. She wasn't scared anymore, that cold feeling that used to take over her was gone. Instead it had hardened into something harder than ice itself, something that gave her a funny feeling inside, something that gave her strength. She didn't need her mother anymore, or her father for that instance. She found that whenever she summoned memories of them in her head, all she felt was a burning hatred, so hot against her newfound coldness, that she became lethal.

And that's how she became the Clove we knew today.

**A/N: Yeah…so that was chapter one. **

**The actual Clove/Cato interactions/romance will happen a bit later on in the story. **

**By the way, I do not support child abuse or domestic violence or anything else in this chapter which may relate to that.**

**And yes, I took the story down for a little while, but now it's back up. So, enjoy! **


	2. Chapter 2

Lethal Romance

Chapter 2:

A haze of wispy steam spiralled out of the soft, delicately cooked yellowness of the dish before him, a knife and fork in his hands. Scrambled eggs were delicious, they just had to be his favourite food out of all breakfast foods, as Cato stuffed another mouthwatering piece inside his mouth, his father's rough uncallosed hands banged the table forcefully, and as the familiar bitter ranting began, Cato decided that scrambled eggs couldn't fix everything.

"Urgh, Brutus rang me again this morning, an' he asked me if I wanted him to pick you up after training, maybe go out for an ice cream or two and give you some tips! Pah! As if! I can't stand that man, ever since he's won the Games he's been more unbearable then ever! Prancing around as if he knows everything there is to know!"

At this point, Cato's father stopped ranting, presumably to take a breath as he wiped some spittle of his chin.

Cato flinched as the momentarily pause was over, and his father opened his mouth to start another round of bitter ranting again. "I could've fared the Hunger Games as well as he did, but _no_, what did he do? Another tribute volunteered for me, and that was that! My chance of honourable glory and forever victory are gone. Taken away from me, snatched – just like that!"

Cato had heard this story numerous times to tell fact from fiction. Apparently his father was going to volunteer for the 44th Hunger Games, which was his last chance to participate as he was 18 at that time, however the local training centre instructors told him he had little chance of coming out alive, and it was better to let someone else volunteer, and although his father was quite angry, he didn't dare volunteer against the training centre's will. The way volunteering worked in district two was, each and every year all pupils in the training centre from the ages of 14 and up completed a weaponry test, fitness test and survival test in seven different terrains. And the training instructors looked at all the results and files, and selected the two that had the best chance of survival, and made it clear who was to volunteer a month before the games. Sometimes the tributes selected corresponded with each other, like the year the training centre purposefully made two very rough and brutal pupils, both with a passion for murdering people in gruesome ways volunteer together, just to give the capitol a show.

Apparently on the day of the reaping, the escort called out father's name, and he was overjoyed, he saw it like a symbol, like a sign from a higher power that the rightful position of the male district two tribute was to be his, however, someone from the academy volunteered for him. And there was only one volunteer allowed per tribute name reaped, so his chance was lost and ever since, dad had been a bitter man of hate and jealousy.

"Come on Bash," Cooed Cato's mother, a slim woman with an elegant figure, who had won the Hunger Games, "Time to go. Wouldn't want dear Cato to be late on his first day of school now wouldn't you?"

Cato looked up from the plate of scrambled eggs which he barely finished; his father slid his heavy schoolbag on him, and slapped his hand away when he reached for a last bit of scrambled egg. Telling him it was important to get there on time and not miss out on any of the training.

The drive there was bumpy, but mostly full of tranquillity from the absence of his father's ranting.

Cato sat at the back, leaning his head comfortably against the window, watching as the houses rushed by, and as they made a turn around the huge quarry mountain. He'd always admired that place, with its vast plains of grass – stretching all the way up the magnificently tall mountain, or the rhythmic drone of the workers working. His father worked in the quarry, but he was full of bitter ramblings about that place.

The school Cato was going to was Ares Academy, named in honour of the god of war, Ares, the way that education worked in district two was that, all children from the ages of 5-12 went to Ares Academy, and learnt about normal school subjects such as history, maths, english, etc. When the school day was over, the training session just began. All students then went to the underground training centre where they trained for an hour before they were released to go home. Of course, some (mostly senior) students stayed for an optional hour before they went home. After that came two high schools, either Ares Training Academy or Hestia Academy.

The former was the one where training for the games was put before education, the one who selected who was the volunteer and who wasn't, the one where all the fittest people went to train in hopes of getting into the Hunger Games.

Hestia Academy was named for the goddess Hestia, who was perceived to be the weakest god, it was the Academy where all the leftovers went.

"Oh good, we're here." Said Cato's father, parking in front of the school, "I'll come pick you up at the end of the day okay?"

"Okay." Said Cato, getting out with his backpack.

Xxx xxx xxx

They were in a low dim room, well – it wasn't really a room. More like a massive hall underground which had odd bits of walls sticking up here and there, a bit like a maze. It was the Junior's training centre, school was out, and training had just began. The instructors led all the eager first years into the underground level, where they were knife throwing, weight lifting, agility, wrestling, spear throwing stations and a lot more. Weapons gleamed from their position in the glass, and the room was lit up with a blue type of light, making it all the more mysterious. Training instructors rushed here and there, helping students with stations, giving of tips, their voices echoing of the flat blue walls.

Cato swallowed, he rarely felt nervous about anything, but today he did.

A tall, alarmingly skinny man with a think shrunken face, and a dirty ragged black goatee walked over, his eyes glittering scarily at each student as he surveyed them. Cato hated the way he looked at them, like they were nothing. He felt compelled to hide somewhere, or to hit the man on the leg, but he knew it would get him nowhere.

Suddenly the man spoke, "Who are you? What are you? Why are you little rascals here?"

When nobody answered he spoke again, "Right. A bunch of 'lil deaf ones aye? Gettin' more pathetic every day, how bout that?"

Still, nobody answered, but apparently the man wasn't expecting an answer because after a moment or two, he waved for everyone to follow.

The whole class of boys followed him into a space, where there were several gym mats, and lots of tiny black balls on the ground. "These are half a kilogram weights, good for building muscle. You can start by lifting them up and down repeatedly for the next half hour. Go on…everybody to their own square of mat and own weight."

There was a frantic rush as everyone tried to get the mat furthest from the instructor, Cato included. He aimed for one at the back, but a kid taller than him shoved him back, with such vigor that Cato was too shocked to fight him for the mat.

He ended up right on the square of mat closest to the edge, where the instructor sat on his chair, stroking his moustache and watching everyone with twitching eyes.

Feeling humiliated, ridiculed and pathetic himself, with his father's emphasis on doing well in training swirling in his mind, Cato looked down and tried to avoid eye contact as he picked up his weight. The instructor was now walking along the rows of boys, surveying them and screaming insults at them. "You think you've got what it takes to be in the games, boy? Well let me tell you something, no one with your incredible _lack_ of muscles would even think about volunteering."

"Pull up. That's it. Now higher! Who do you think you are? A girl? See there's a reason why there are no girls in this class! Because girls are weak, and don't do weight lifting until later on. Now, by the way you're holding it, you'd be weaker than the weakest girl!"

One by one, the instructor went around, shouting insults and comparisons, which generally improved the progress of every student. Making them more competitive and hardened. The room started to smell of sweat, and Cato turned sideways to avoid the impeccable stench as he lifted the weight. Up and down. Up and down.

His muscles were screaming, sweat breaking out on his own forehead, his father's disapproving eyes sweeping over his body in his mind, Cato felt weak and shaky. His right arm started shaking after a while, and he felt like the weakest boy in the class. But when the instructor came by, he said, "Good. I see a bit of muscle there." Which made his hopes rise just a little bit, then, "But too slow. You must pull up and down faster otherwise, why are you here? Get out if you're not dedicated!"

This only encouraged Cato even more, and he pulled up and down, as fast as he could possibly go. Then someone asked the instructor when was home time.

The instructor snorted loudly, "Home time? It's been barely ten minutes into the exercise! Keep going, I'll be coming around again to check that none of you weaklings have been slacking off."

Then the instructor's footsteps faded off into the distance, as he made his way around again, weaving in between students, shouting words of hateful encouragement, and dishing out the occasional compliment or two – often followed by snarky words and insults.

Cato worked hard, ignoring the feeling in his muscles which was beyond pain, he gritted his teeth and when he found the looks of pain mirrored on his peers faces too much to bear, he turned around and looked to see what the girls were doing. A women instructor was talking, saying something and holding up a bunch of knives, one by one, the light gleaming off them. A class of about ten or so girls stood watching, eyes wide in amazement as the women began passing around the knives, decorated with ebony black holders, their blades flashing eerily in the light.

Cato couldn't help feeling that the girls had an easy time, all they were doing were standing around and looking at knives! A bundle of hate welled up inside him, hate for the instructors, hate for the muscles breaking into piercing sharp bouts of pain in him, for a brief moment he hated whoever invented the Hunger Games and forced him through this pain. But that moment went as quickly as it came. Then the instructor announced them to switch hands. There was an outbreak of groaning and sighing, the boys shook their arms and grumbled to each other. Then it started up again, the instructor passing everybody, watching them as they moved the weight up and down with their left arm.

Finding the pain came much earlier in his left arm then his right (probably because he was right handed), Cato looked away back at the girls. The women instructor was now pointing at her stomach and chest, motioning something, her lips moving as she spoke.

Then, suddenly, as fast as lightning and all in one rapid, swift movement, a knife was released from somebody in the group of girls, and sailed in an arch before hitting the women's stomach.

It took Cato a while to realize that the people in the immediate proximity to this incident were quiet, watchful, wearing sympathetic faces. His guesses were that whoever threw the knife was going to be punished.

Cato looked away again, as he didn't want to see some brutal corporal punishment and instead focused on his weight lifting. He found that if he gritted his teeth and convinced himself it was worth it, the pain didn't hurt that much. Then he found that the boys in his view kept looking back that way, with looks of curiosity and shock on their faces, he hated to witness whatever punishment they must've been giving to the girl, but, unable to bear the tension and the fact of not knowing, he turned and was immediately shocked to see a slightly messy brown haired girl with intense dark eyes and freckles smattered across her nose and cheeks standing there, a female instructor behind her, and his instructor conversing with her in rapid tones.

After a while, he announced to the whole class, "Alright boys, we have a new addition to our group. Seeing as she's advanced much quicker than the rest of her class, she'd be joining us in weight lifting today to build muscle. Everyone, meet Clove."

There was a subtle silence, before someone said, "But she's a girl! And all girls are weak!"

Immediately Clove hissed, and looked like she was about to lash out when the instructor grabbed her by the collar of her uniform and hissed something in her ear. Cato glanced away quickly when he saw the girl look at him, he focused on moving his arm up and down, all the way to his shoulders and down so it was the same level as his waist, trying to ignore the strain of the weight.

It wasn't until a low gravelly voice said, "Cato, move over. There's going to be a space for Clove there." That Cato had realized Clove's instructor must've went away. His own instructor glared at Cato until he had shuffled as far to his right as possible, then once he went away Cato noticed that the girl bore an indifferent look. Like she didn't care what was going on. He also noticed there were freckles on her cheeks, which were rather cute. Cato started counting them, he'd just got up to the eighth freckle when the girl snapped, "What are you staring at?" And shot him a piercing look.

"Never you mind." Cato shot back, mentally berating himself for getting caught.

"It's because I'm a girl right?"

Cato was momentarily confused by this statement before the girl – Clove, clarified by saying, "And all girls are weak?" She nodded at the kid who had said that upon her arrival.

"Not all girls. Some boys are. I am." Said Cato, remembering the previous pain and shaking he'd endured.

Clove crinkled her nose, "What are you? An idiot? Surely you've got eyes to see that your strong."

"Enough chatter! More lifting!" Boomed the instructor's voice as he came around, Cato and Clove quickly looked away from each other, and focused on their lifting.

For the next few minutes of the training session, Cato's mind spun with Clove and her knife throwing skills. Was it her knife that went to the instructor's stomach? Or was it someone else's? He didn't get to see clearly. But it had to be hers, otherwise she wouldn't be here, would she?

By the end of the one hour training session, Cato was just grabbing his bag. Still panting from the agility course the instructor had made them do, on the way up the lift, he caught sight of Clove, and started towards her before he would lose her in the crowd. She'd left to re-join her class after the weight lifting part of the one hour training session was over.

"Clove!" He called, moving through the mass of people until he got to her. She was standing there with the straps of her bag resting on her shoulder, looking slightly pink and puffed – Cato guessed she'd done running too with her group.

"Oh, you, again." She said, looking at him, "I forgot to ask your name."

"It's Cato, Clove." He told her.

She smiled, "They both start with the same letter."

"Yeah."

Suddenly the lift doors opened and everybody went their separate ways.

"Um, bye Clove." Called Cato, spotting his father by the car.

"Night Cato." Replied Clove, and indeed the sky was dark.

Then they went their separate ways.

Xxx xxx xxx

Later that evening, when Cato's mum asked him how did training go over their dinner, he replied with, "Good. I met a girl called Clove who threw knives at the instructor."

His mother looked surprised but didn't question the viability of that statement.

Xxx xxx xxx

**Author's Note: Right, sorry for such a long chapter there. I did hope you enjoyed the little Clove/Cato interaction there was there. **

**In the next chapter you get to read Clove's view on what happened in this chapter, and the bit before where she chucked that knife at the instructor! **

**~XxTigerlilyxX**


	3. Chapter 3

Lethal Romance:

Chapter 3:

First day of training.

School had been good, enough.

The tall, brawny instructor dressed in a uniform of blue and silver tracksuits and pants, led them around the training centre, in a path that passed all the senior years. Probably to impress them.

Razor sharp knives glinted in the light as they were thrown with force and accuracy into targets, the muffled thumps of students practicing judo and their ever determined cries filled the air.

The actual training centre was underground, which Clove found a bit weird, and there were all these half built rooms coming up. With only one or two walls, but never a full room. It was like a huge hall with bits and pieces of walls to enclose the different levels.

After their brief tour of the training grounds, the instructor led Clove and the class into a small patch of space before a huge blue wall, there was a table with a glass case on top, and about ten different sized knives and blades glinted merrily within.

The teacher drew one out, it was the biggest and meanest, with a huge curved blade, "Welcome class, today will be your first day in the training centre which you shall attend for the next six years here at Ares Academy. There will be a wide range of different weapons and combat for you to practice, but until second year, you will all be doing basic training and fitness without weapons and combat practice to ensure you are fit enough for it when the time comes."

The group of first years were all quiet, as they absorbed this. Clove remained silent as she watched the instructor, and the gleaming knives.

Soon it turns out, that the instructor was going to show them around the place first, and show them all the different stations there were, even though some of them they weren't going to attend until second year. And first up – was the knifes station.

"Now, there are many different types of knives, all different weights and shapes, and different means to use them. One way is to slash and hack at the opponent using them, another is to deflect blows from other weapons using the blade, and the third is to throw them. But we won't be throwing them until you've all mastered the basics of just slashing and hacking. Which are…?" The teacher trailed off, leaving space for someone else to finish. When no one responded, and the majority of the class started fidgeting, including Clove, the teacher said, "Who can tell me where to aim a knife at if you're going to slash at an opponent?"

A hand shot up.

"Yes?"

"You always aim for the chest or stomach!" Said the girl.

"Very good. Yes, you always aim for the chest or stomach, because that is where the vital organs are, and it will take down an opponent fast. Now, unbelievably, aiming for the chest or stomach in the midst of combat is very difficult, but when done properly it'll be lethal."

As the instructor spoke, her voice bouncing of walls, Clove grew increasingly bored, as with the rest of the class consisting of five year olds. Eventually she tuned the teacher out and walked forwards a bit, until she was standing right in front of the case of knives.

Gingerly, she reached out a hand and touched one. She drew back at the sudden coolness that met her fingers. She had never touched a knife before.

But the strange and new equipment seemed to draw her in with a mysterious aura, and she didn't know when was the next time she'll see a such a weapon again, so she reached in and picked one out.

It was a small knife with a shiny silver blade poking out of a black holder. She turned it over and over in her hand, the black bit felt bumpy and warm, while the blade part felt smooth and chilling. She quite liked the feel of it.

Suddenly the teacher's voice cut through her thoughts, she was talking about aiming for the stomach, her hands making motions towards the blue fabric of her tracksuit that covered her stomach, and Clove thought – what could be a better time to aim for someone's stomach but now?

She stepped back a bit so she had one foot forward, one foot back, and raised her right hand up to her face, she pulled back a bit, then judged the distance and on the count of three, she released and the knife high into the air – too high, and lost most of its speed as it dropped and barely brushed against the target – oops, teacher's stomach before dropping to the ground with a disappointed clatter. She'll have to wait another time to try again.

Suddenly she became aware of the stares all around her, from her classmates to the instructors and her male peers to her right, who were doing weight lifting. She could've sworn there was this boy was looking at her for practically the whole session.

"Clove!" Exclaimed the teacher, walking forwards until she was practically inches away from her. Clove forced herself to look up into her teacher's blue eyes, and wondered what was going to happen next.

"That could've been incredibly dangerous and hazardous!" The teacher exclaimed, her voice creeping up an octave. Clove initially flinched as it reminded her of her mother, who exclaimed and screeched with fright whenever Clove went into the same room as her. But she soon smoothed that fear out, and stared right back at the teacher.

"But that was also very good and demonstrated some good technique, was it your first time in throwing a knife?" The teacher asked, her voice returning to its normal volume.

Clove shrugged non chantly as she caught more of her classmates staring at her, and she saw the same boy from the weight lifting boy looking. She felt inclined to shove a fist in his face just to get him to look away.

Finally the teacher spoke, having seemed to accept that Clove wasn't going to answer, "Come. We've a place to go. The rest of you, stay where you are and _don't_ touch the knives."

Clove followed the teacher, and found to her surprise they were heading straight to the weightlifting group.

Xxx xxx xxx

"Agnes, can I have a word with you please?"

The high pitched female voice made Agnes jump a bit, but once he realized it was his fellow co-worker, he relaxed and turned around. Deciding these boys could weights lift without supervision for a bit. "Yes?" He asked. Then noticed the puny girl standing beside the teacher, who was currently scowling in the general direction of the class. He wondered what was going on.

"We've got a…" Tammi (the name of the instructor) 's voice dropped a bit so no one but them would hear, "Natural at throwing knives. She threw one without help or guidance on her first lesson. Naturally we need to build her up so she can put more strength in her throws."

Agnes raised an eyebrow, "So you want me to put her in my boys class?"

"That is it exactly!" Tammi said, nodding in approval.

Agnes grunted, before turning around and announcing, "Alright boys, we have a new addition to our group. Seeing as she's advanced much quicker than the rest of her class, she'd be joining us in weight lifting today to build muscle. Everyone, meet Clove."

Xxx xxx xxx

The teacher's announcement sailed high over Clove's head, as everyone's gaze turned to her. _Oh no_, she thought inwardly to herself as she saw she was in the same group with that kid who liked to stare at her.

Suddenly another voice, belonging to a kid near the back shouted out, "But she's a girl! And all girls are weak!"

Great, thought Clove, so that's what everyone thinks of me. She prepared to lunge out at that kid and give him a lifelong scar just to prove him incorrect, when a hand grasped the collar of her uniform and pulled her back. She felt her teacher's nails sharp against her neck, as her low voice hissed in her ear, "Behave Clove!"

When Clove looked behind her, she saw that her initial teacher was already walking away, and her new one – the tall skinny man with a dirty beard was watching her with twitching eyes, before he announced, "Cato, move over. There's going to be a space for Clove there."

Cato, so that's what his name was. The blonde boy who wouldn't crease staring.

Clove moved over and picked up the weight, unlike the knife it felt heavy and clumsy, and she didn't like the feel of it in her hands. Even worse, it was heavy to lift, and within minutes her right arm was already starting to feel pain. But to top things off, that boy was staring at her _again_, like he was mentally retarded or something, and before he could keep staring she muttered out, "What, are you staring at?"

He didn't reply for a while, and when he did, all he said was, "Never you mind."

Which just made Clove feel more infuriated, "It's because I'm a girl right?" She announced, "And all girls are weak?" She looked towards the boy at the back who had first said that.

Cato shook his head a little,

"Not all girls. Some boys are. I am."

Which made Clove want to laugh a little, but she couldn't because her sides were aching from lifting the heavy weight up and down. She wondered how that boy – Cato, did it so smoothly and evenly without seeming to show pain.

A sudden burst of pain slammed her in her upper arm, she probably had pulled a muscle, and that pain had made what she said next come out more harder then she wanted it to, "What are you? An idiot? Surely you've got eyes to see that your strong."

Then the teacher came to tell them to shut up and keep lifting. So Clove did so, keeping her eyes ahead and trying to ignore the sweat dripping down her forehead.

Xxx xxx xxx

After a while the weight lifting session was over, and Clove was surprised when her instructor came back to get her, and told her that she was going back to her group to do some agility runs together.

At first they sounded fun, but as Clove was pushed to the limit, running and turning as fast as she possibly could without crashing into anything around bright neon coloured cones, she started to detest agility runs.

Afterwards, with her breath coming out in puffs, her hair clinging to her brow in sweat and her body feeling generally like it was never going to cool down, ever, the teacher announced it was time to go home.

In the elevator, just when Clove had found a nice secluded spot at the back, someone pushed through the people standing in front of her and called her name.

She looked around, and saw the boy she saw earlier. He seemed extremely puffed, so maybe his group did agility runs as well?

"Oh you again," Clove said, looking at him, then suddenly realizing that his name had not stuck with her and she didn't know it. She'd never asked him anyway, only heard it when the instructor told him to move over. "I forgot to ask your name." She said.

"It's Cato, Clove." He told her, and suddenly the name hit her. It had sounded so familiar!

"They both start with the same letter." She said, thinking that was perhaps why she remembered it all of a sudden.

"Yeah." Agreed Cato.

They had arrived at ground level now, and the elevator doors were slowing opening. The sky was murky blue, and dotted with a thousand or more stars.

"Um, bye Clove." Said Cato, getting ready to leave.

"Night Cato." Replied Clove as she walked away to where her father was waiting. She didn't want to go home, didn't want to face her mother's face, blank of everything except fear and paranoia. And her father, a man of indifference to Clove's silent suffering, as he talked to Yelena in fast tones which nearly always led to arguments.

But, she thought as she walked across the parking lot, at least she had _some_ good memories to hang onto. Such as throwing her first knife, getting promoted to weight lifting, and meeting Cato.


	4. Chapter 4

Lethal Romance:

Chapter 4:

It was a hot day, made even worse by the waves of heat rolling off the ground and making things shimmer in the distance. The line to the Training Centre was even longer then Cato remembered it the last time he looked, and it seemed almost impossible that the instructors would get to finish testing everyone before night fall.

Seven years had passed since he'd first stepped foot in the underground training centre at Ares Academy, and now, he was in the schoolgrounds of Ares Training Academy, the future highschool that everybody wanted to go to. They were in a large oval, which due to the ever present heat and sun, was covered with dirt and dust, and not a patch of green to be seen.

The large white building of the Training Centre in which everyone in Cato's grade were to be tested loomed ahead, instructors calling out names and waving people in once the previous person had finished and went out the other side.

Although nerves was in the air, and a lot of people were visibly shaking or running over combat techniques in their minds, Cato wasn't nervous. He hardly ever was.

Instead his lips were dry, his mouth tasted like a desert with all the sand, and he felt stiff from standing up in the same position so long. The line of girls beside him were already grumbling and fanning themselves with their hands, but a couple of instructors came and shooed them back in line with the threat of exempting them from the test entirely if they broke order.

Cato folded his arms over his chest again, and stared straight ahead, he couldn't help feeling pessimistic about when his turn would come – if it ever did. No, he was not worried about not getting in. The teachers back at Ares Academy, even Agnes, had all said it was almost a certainty he would get in, and it was true Cato had grown much stronger and fitter over the years. He was one of the most muscular boys in his grade, though his height was something to be ashamed of. Although he couldn't be described as short, he certainly wasn't one of the tallest; instead he was only above average at 5 foot 4.

Suddenly a tall curvy girl with pointy elbows and very light blonde hair got pushed back by the jostling crowd and bumped into Cato, who glared, annoyed by both the unceremonious push and the fact that she was almost as tall as him. She pulled herself up from the ground, and looked behind to see who she had crashed into, let out a wild giggle at the sight of Cato and slauntered over to her friends. Cato looked away before he would see them inevitably whispering about him, and sending looks at him that were supposed to be cleverly hid and casual, but weren't.

As he turned his head back, he caught sight of a brown haired girl dusting off her hands out of the corner of his eyes, and he briefly looked back to see if she was the girl who'd pushed the other one at him.

She caught him looking and stopped mid-motion, giving him a stare back. He stuck up his nose as if he didn't care and turned back around, however, feeling a bit ridiculed.

A few minutes of silence between them ticked by, one person from his line and two from hers moved into the Training Centre to get tested, her line moved up just a little more than his did so she was now directly opposite him. Before he could pretend he hadn't been watching her, she spoke up, "What is your name again?"

He considered ignoring her, but decided against it as it would make him appear cold and aloof, not that he wasn't but still…everybody was watching.

"Cato." He replied.

"Oh." Her face fell and for a moment she looked disappointed, "I knew that."

"Did you?" He pressed, enjoying the squirming looks of uncomfortableness playing on her features. When she half turned away he continued, hoping to make her more embarrassed for his amusement, "And you're-"

He intended to say her name just to tease her and make the fact clear that he knew her better then she knew him, but he just stopped as he realized with a bang that he hadn't known her name.

Cato stared at her, scrutinizing every aspect of her. With her dark brown hair – slightly sticky in the heat, her brown eyes, her freckles, not as many as before – wait, _before_…? He had met her before, sometime, someplace, Cato felt sure of it, just he couldn't remember. Now looking at her, and her muscular build it hit him that he did weight lifting with her at Ares Academy, just they were at opposite ends of the mat and they'd never talked.

"Clove." She replied, smirking. Cato looked at her, at the smirk on her face and remembered the indifference she had for pushing that girl aside, and it sparked a weird sense of déjà vu in him.

"I think I've met you before." He said hesitantly.

"Says the boy that didn't remember my name." She replied with another smirk.

Cato frowned, usually he was the leader of the grade, and not made fun of like this. He quirked an eyebrow as he said, "Well it's not like you remembered mine's either."

"Yeah right Cato." She responded.

"Good luck Clove." He said as the line moved up another few notches, and Clove was head of her line. Cato still had five people in front of him. They were supposed to be lining up in alphabetical order from first names, but there were more boys in the grade then girls, which was why Cato was behind Clove, even though his name was slightly more towards the start of the alphabet then hers.

"Luck? I don't need it."

"Oh yeah, victor's daughter." Said Cato suddenly, remembering the fact. It was funny because that meant they lived on the same street as each other, both living in the victor's village and all, yet he didn't remember seeing her. Maybe they lived at opposite ends or something?

"Where do you live?" He asked.

"What are you, a creep?" Clove questioned back.

"We already live on the same street." Cato said.

"Which parent of yours?" Clove asked back so quickly that it took Cato a while to figure out what she was asking.

"Oh my mums. She's victor of the 51st Hunger Games."

Clove nodded in understanding.

"And your father's a victor right? Everyone's heard of him, isn't he the next best winner besides Brutus." Asked Cato, thinking of the legends he'd heard from his parents at times.

"Yep."

An awkward silence fell. In which Cato examined his line and found to his surprise and delight that there were only three people left. It was Clove's half finished sentence that drew his attention to her again, "My mother's also-"

She stopped suddenly, as if she said something embarrassing.

Cato turned to her, crossed his arms in front of his chest – which was what he did to look intimidating and waited for her to finish.

But she just shook her head and bit her tongue.

"As you were saying?" He challenged.

"Nothing." Clove said with a shake of her head.

Suddenly the instructor called her name, and Cato saw her walk up. Her right hand gripping a shiny black knife he hadn't noticed since now. The sight was enough to make him step back a bit, since when did Clove wield knives? Oh yeah…suddenly that first day of training came back to him, and Cato found himself saying, "Remember, aim for the chest or stomach." At her just before she disappeared into the Training Centre.

When Cato's own turn came, he didn't worry. Instead he beat the punching bag senseless, ran 18 laps around the testing area in the allocated 7 minutes, lifted 20 kg weights and when it came to his combat weapon of choice, he stunned the marker so much that they whistled at him. He came out confident that he would win, and couldn't wait to joke about how easy the test was with his friends.

Xxx xxx xxx

**Author's Note: Yay! Chapter finished! Hope you enjoyed ;) **

**By the way, I know 5 4" may seem a bit short for Cato, but that cause he's only 12 in this chapter so yeah, just wanted to clear that up if you were confused. **

**P.S. Please tell me if you think there's something off about the characterization, one of the main things I notice about Cato/Clove fanfictions and try to avoid is that it's too much centred around Clove. Like Cato's always asking her questions or chasing after her but Clove never does anything back. I actually want this story to include both of them loving each other. **


	5. Chapter 5

Lethal Romance:

Chapter 5:

Clove walks down to the kitchen, passing a scurrying maid who would no doubt be stuck serving her mother breakfast in a few hours, stuck in that pathetic little room, spoon-feeding a grown women who hisses at the slightest sound.

In some ways, Clove feels grateful and snide whenever she sees that maid, and she makes no effort to hide that.

She creeps past the hallway, into the kitchen, where the man that is her father, sits talking to some women he picked up, probably for a one night stand last night. They are still talking and laughing as Clove comes in, and she makes sure to avoid their chitterchatter and radiating cheeriness which gets on her nerves, as she goes over to make herself breakfast.

It's funny, she muses silently to herself, three separate people (her, her father and her mother) living in the same house, yet all leading separate lives with basically no deep interactions between them, except for a united family front when guests come over. They're strangers, each and every one of them, living in their own world, with their own priorities and goals, and almost completely ignoring one another. Clove would feel her mother walk by her in the hallways on some Saturday mornings, when Clove got out of bed late, and she'd hear her heavy thread and the noisy rapturous inhaling and exhaling of breath, and the only emotion she'd feel was annoyance, mixed with a little bit of indifference that an obstacle was in her way of getting to the kitchen.

Clove is halfway through her breakfast (a very nice breakfast it was that day), when her eyes picked up the sharp movements of her mother's shadow, and the hairs at the back of her neck prick up, as the food lodges itself into her throat. She swallows, and tries to ignore her mother's rapidly approaching presence, as well as the inevitable drama coming with it. Somehow Clove didn't think her mother would be too happy if she saw her dad and the random women.

Too soon, she was proven correct, by the outbreak of questioning in alarmed, startled tones and frantic hand gestures which just screams frustration. Clove doesn't see why her mother just doesn't hit her father instead – it'll give him the idea that she's angry at him faster.

She finishes her breakfast just in time to see her father roll his hands up in fists, and her mother produces a long shining silver knife from her person in a flash, and takes a defensive stance. She feels her heart thud in her throat as she tries to estimate a way around them, to head out to the training centre that she visited every Saturday. Just as Clove gets up, she sees her father start the first punch, and before she knows it, she's jumping in front of them. Arms crossed in front of her mother. "Don't hurt her! Don't hurt anyone! Just-"

A punch goes to her face, and she snaps back in shock, the next second her mother's hands are pinching her, "Stay out of this." She hisses, roughly throwing Clove away with strength Clove didn't know she processed.

Feeling sharp stings of hurt and anger pierce her body, Clove grabs a kitchen knife blindly as she jumps out of the window. She hits the ground running, the garden flower's infuriating fresh scent getting on her nerves, suddenly all the names come forth from another time, another memory. _Geranium, Chrysanthemums…Clovers_

_SHUT UP! _Screams her mind. Clove jumps the gate, effectively pushing all emotions and memories out of her mind, pushing away this morning's happenings and establishing a hard shell of steel around her. Once her mind's relatively clear, Clove slows to a jog towards the training centre, it's then that she notices she still has the knife in her hands. It's only a vegetable knife, but it's got a considerably sharp blade, and feels nice and sturdy in the crook of her palm. It's a good knife, it makes her feel protected and secure.

Clove heads into the training centre, sneaks in through the gates and heads underground in the elevator. She's not supposed to be here, she thinks. It's only the Ares Training Academy Centre that's supposed to be open on the weekends to contenders of the Hunger Games, but the Ares Academy's training centre is still open. For cleaners mainly, but the instructor that supervises the place sometimes lets the occasional student who knew the training centre was open and could keep a secret come in, and train. Clove had been a regular visitor, along with a few others but they trained at different stations, and she rarely knew them apart from seeing their blurred figures.

Once she's in, she slides the vegetable knife through her belt, and heads to the basic combat section, she slowly works her way around, enjoying the feel of the weaponry in her hands, the exhilaration of fighting and not knowing what's going to happen next, to have to be aware of each and every move the opponent makes. To kill or be killed.

Once she's done with those, she heads to her favourite section, the knife throwing section, and grabs the knives, differing in size and shape. She arranges each and every blade into the crook of her hands, and gets ready to launch them at the targets, watching as she scored blues and reds, and the occasional yellow but almost never a bulls eye. Her mind filled with colours, and targets, and soon she was preoccupied.

Clove stood back to back with the final target, a target she'd completely missed every time in her training session (but her instructor assured her it was for older students) but still, Clove persisted in giving it a try. Perhaps she'd finally get it right this time. She prepared, and gripped the handle hard, feeling her sweat pressing against the handle. On the count of three, one…two…three…

Whoosh.

"Whoa!" A shocked cry echoed through the training centre.

Clove sucked in a breath, feeling her lungs freeze, as if turning to ice. She hit someone. She hit someone!

A feeling of searing joy radiated through her, spreading through her veins like fire before she could comprehend any other emotion, and she longed to grab another knife and throw it at the same person. But a jolting thought reminded her she was still in the training centre, not the Hunger Games, and that whoever she had impaled might've been hurt, and it's only logical for her to apologize before she gets into trouble.

The moment she turns around, the same voice that cried spoke again, "What are you, crazy?" It sounded angry, pissed.

Clove blinked when she realized the person was none other than Cato. Crouching down in a defensive stance, but free of any injuries, and looking at her like she was crazy.

"Oh…you're…not hurt then?" She stammers, feeling slightly shocked at the disappointment that iced over her.

"I could've been. Did you know how close the knife was to my face?" Thunders Cato, getting up and dusting himself off, he didn't looked amused. In fact, he looked angry.

"So I missed?" Confirmed Clove, barely able to believe it. She didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed. Clove didn't say anything as she went and grabbed the knife from where it was lying on the ground, it brushed against the wall with a scrape. 

Cato didn't bother her with a reply. It was a rhetorical question afterall. Clove went to the knives display case, and slid hers in with a thunk, as she withdrew her hand and slid the glass panel shut with a click. Suddenly Cato's words hit her like a stone, "What is there to do here?"

"What?" Asked Clove bluntly, having not entirely caught on his sentence.

"I mean, what is there to do here? Now that I've got the message the training centre's open on the weekends." Explained Cato with a shrug.

"You mean you didn't know before?" Questioned Clove suddenly.

"I'd never thought to come here before." Stated Cato simply, looking at her with a locked gaze.

Clove found that weird since Cato was one of the strongest males in her class, and she thought he'd already know all the secrets of the training centre, as well as the actual training but turns out no. And suddenly she found herself explaining everything to him, who the cleaners were, which instructors supervised on which day, which ones to avoid and which ones that will let you in. Without knowing, Clove had started on a tour. Taking Cato around to all the stations (which he already knew from days of training after school), telling him which ones they could use, which ones they couldn't, any requirements by the cleaners and all those facts.

"And this one's the display case for the swords. We're only allowed to use these two over here, otherwise the cleaners will get angry because the other ones are harder to polish and keep clean then these." Explained Clove, tapping the display case.

Cato, who had been more or less listening and absorbing everything the whole time, stepped closer and peered in. He merely made a noise of indifference as he stepped away, seemingly unimpressed.

"What? Not good enough for your standards?" Taunted Clove, seeing his reaction.

"No. It's just…they're too light. I'll be better with a much heavier one."

Clove felt a tiny bit shocked at this, seeing as even the lightest sword in the display cases requires a large quota of her strength to pick up. But seeing Cato's arrogance really annoyed her, and made her want to prove _something_ to him. "Challenge fight?" She asks.

"What?" Says Cato, looking at her questioningly.

"Challenge fight. We each get to pick a sword. I'll go with the lightest out of the two, you go with the heaviest out of the two, see which sword's more efficient. First one with their backs pinned to the floor wins." Explains Clove, the dim light enhancing her features as she spoke, and the smile that lit her face after she finished her sentence.

"Sure." Says Cato with a smirk as he easily picked up the heaviest sword, "You're on."

With that they stood opposite each other, eyes locked. "On the count of three, one." Says Clove.

"Two." Replies Cato.

"Three…" Breaths Clove from under her breath, and Cato is on her not a second after. He tackles and attempts to push her to the ground with the blade of his sword, but Clove intercepts and blocks, before side stepping to his left. She picks up her blade and prepares to swing wickedly at his face. Only Cato notices, but he's not entirely sure what's coming so he just spars and blocks at the general area of this face.

Clove takes advantage of his, giving him a blow to the stomach with the butt of her sword, and dragging him to the ground.

"Ha! I win!" She spits, triumphant.

"Not if I can help it." Groans Cato as he uses all his strength not to touch the floor with his back. His strong arms grab Clove's arms, and with a mighty heave, pushes her off so her sides touching the ground. Only one more push and victory is his…

Clove jumps up and picks up her sword, which had been discarded next to Cato's in the fight. She pants as she gets ready to push him to the floor. Only he jumps up, snatches his sword and with a flick of his wrist, has it held in ready position. Pacing around her.

They each pace around each other for a bit, chests heaving and breathing heavily, until Clove lunges and Cato takes the blow. He staggers back a bit, before regaining his balance and throwing himself back at Clove. It's hard to say what happened next, but Clove sidestepped just a moment too late, and Cato hit her at a funny angle.

Next thing they knew, both of them were lying back to the ground, unsure whichever one of them hit first.

"I win." Says Clove, even though she knows it's not true.

"Draw?" Offers Cato, panting a bit as he reaches out and offers a hand.

"You're lucky it's a draw." Replies Clove, smirking as she accepts, but even then, there's no hard feelings behind the words.

"So…how often do you come here?" Asks Cato a little while later. The two of them were still languishing in relaxed positions on the floor, back to the ground, hand in hand from their previous handshake and looking up at the brilliantly lit blue lights twinkling in the ceiling.

"Huh? Oh, every Saturday. Sometimes Sunday. Depends how…" Clove pauses before continuing, "Unbearable my parents get."

"Oh?" Says Cato, shooting a sideways glance at her.

"Yeah. Why are you here?" Asks Clove suddenly.

"Ah. Couldn't stand my father. He was being a jerk with his friend on our day out. So I made some excuses and said I'd be back in a few hours." Cato pauses, before he decides to elaborate some more, "Mum made him take me out. Said it was for some kind of 'father son bonding time' or something."

"Sounds terrible. Poor little wittle Cato, stuck with his father." Teases Clove.

"It wasn't," He says, "Until his friend came in. It was all going well until then. We were at this café, restaurant sort of thing. Having an early morning tea, and he was telling me about the Games, when his old colleague bumped into him, and after that it all went downhill. Preparation talks about the reaping turned into combined ranting about their quarry mining."

"You're going to volunteer for the Games, then?" Asks Clove, startled. Hardly anyone volunteered at the age of twelve, and without the Ares Training Centre's permission.

"What? No. Not until I'm the age of 14 at least. I'm just starting to think about it as this year's my second Reaping." Replies Cato, looking solemnly serious in the blue dim light of the training centre.

"Oh. Well you wouldn't last a minute in there right now. Not without Ares Training Academy training." Says Clove with a sigh, "Wonder what it's like. Finally getting to know if you're in or not." She says, referring to the entry test they did a week ago, which they still hadn't gotten the results to yet.

"Oh it's being mailed out today, actually." Says Cato suddenly, sitting up.

"What?" Exclaims Clove, following suit and sitting straight up.

"Yep." A delicate moment passes before a smile lights Cato's face, "Race you?" He says, jumping up.

"Where?" Says Clove, jumping up also.

"To our mailboxes. It shouldn't be that hard, afterall we live on the same street." He replies, moving to the elevators in a series of quick strides.

"What? That's no fair! I live further down then you!" Exclaims Clove incredulously.

"You wanna call the quits?" Said Cato, raising an eyebrow as he pressed the lift's button and they started rising.

"No. You're on." Says Clove with a smile as they reached the top level. Just as the blue tinted sliding lift doors, slid open to permit exit, Clove and Cato burst out, the soles of their shoes landing hard on the ground as they took up speed, and raced each other through the main highways and streets. The sky was orange in the midday light, and splotches of dappled sunlight were falling on the pavement. A capitol hovercraft passing peacefully overhead.

They laughed, and playfully pushed each other, and sometimes one put on more speed than the other, but more or less, they stayed together and when they reached the Victor's Village, it was obvious Cato got to his mailbox first. But once he took out the envelope – a smooth manila coloured one with a crimson red ribbon, he waited for Clove to fetch hers. Halfway through her run back, he grew impatient and raced ahead to meet her, they met halfway down the street and laughing as the held their letters together. Two identical matching innocent manila coloured envelopes, containing the truth to their future. A shimmering yes, or a heartbroken no.

"Together?" Asks Clove, her heart thudding in her rib cage.

"Together." Decides Cato, his breath slowing to a halt as he considers the two envelopes, as if it were between a matter of life and death.

"One…" Breaths Clove, mutually calling for a count of three.

"Two." Continues Cato, fingers poised in position.

"Three!"

There's a frantic burst of ripping, as both open their envelopes and begin to unfold the truth. Each feeling their own heart drumming noisily against their chest and wondering if the other would notice as their eyes fell on the contents of the letter. A moment passed. As poignant as a bird's first flight.

Then.

"Yes!" Screams Clove, ecstatically.

"No…" Moans Cato, gloomily.

"What?" Splutters Clove.

"Fooled you!" Exclaims Cato, grinning a cocky grin.

"Oh…you…!" But as Clove says this, she is unable to help bursting into fits of laughter, something she hadn't done for a long time, it felt alien in her chest and forlorn to her ears. But when Cato joined in, and the melody of both of their laughter, ringing the air, sounded just right. They quietened down with shaky breaths, and promised each other on the spur of the moment that they would meet on the first day.

Xxx xxx xxx

**Author's Note: A long chapter. I hope you enjoyed dear readers! **

**-XxTigerlilyxX**


	6. Chapter 6

Lethal Romance:

Chapter 6:

Cato sat at the dinner table, focusing on his steak and trying to ignore the snippets of conversation zigzagging across the table between his father and his uncle – Brutus, the former Hunger Games Victor.

The night had started off as a polite and friendly family gathering with Brutus as it was the school holidays, however, as the night grew on and each party had a little bit more drink of wine, their voices raised high up into the air in clipped tones as they bantered and argued about Cato's future.

"Now you 'uined my chance 'n the Games, I'm not allowing you to ruin Cato's!" Exclaimed his father, swinging his wine glass unnecessarily high. Mother just sat quietly and ate her food and sipped her wine, it was only her occasional eruption of giggles that told Cato she had also probably - definitely consumed more than what she should've have.

"Don't be silly young man," Roared Brutus, banging his fist on the table, "If your son's as much of a weakling as you are, I doubt he'll even last five minutes!"

"Pah! He'll last five times 'ore then what you did," Retorted Cato's dad, taking another gulp of wine, "What was your games ay? Only two weeks one day!"

It was true that Brutus' Hunger Games had been extremely short, though it was more the arena's deadliness that leeched off tributes rather than his fault.

By the time Brutus and father had started betting how long Cato would last in his games, when he volunteered (these bets would probably be forgotten the next day), Cato was feeling sick to the stomach, with a sizzle of boiling hot anger rising from within him due to his failed attempts to ignore the conversation, he longed for the satisfying crunch of bones beneath his fist, anything to take out his anger. Suddenly he stood up, and so fast that his chair fell backwards and into the floor, but neither Brutus or his father noticed. It was only his mother that did, "Cato…where are you going?" She asked quietly. Her face looked grey in the dim light. Cato had always had a good relationship with his mother, and he didn't want to take his anger out on her, so he replied in a low calm voice, "I'm going to my room."

"But dessert hasn't been served. And you know that they're only joking, they don't really mean anything." Said his mother.

Cato just grimaced, "Mum I'm going outside. I don't want to be near them." He said. Surprisingly his mother didn't object, she just nodded with a sigh and told him to be back at ten.

Once Cato disappeared out the front door, and the light of the living room faded from view, replaced by a dark sludge like darkness of the night, he truly let his anger release. As if slowly opening the lid to a boiling kettle, and letting all the poisonous steam inside escape, he punched the telephone post next to the street, kicked a bin and was about to smash the nearest black shape to his left, when it jumped back and emitted a noise. "Hey, don't take all your anger out on me!" It said, than stepped slightly closer, the black void of shadows that had been covering her features slid aside to reveal the familiar dark brown eyes and freckled cheeks of Clove.

"What are you doing here?" Cato questioned suddenly.

"Oh, picking up a watch for dad which he dropped around here sometime in the daytime," Replied Clove, holding up her hand to reveal a leather watch.

"Well I suppose you'll have to go back now you've found it then," Said Cato a little regretfully.

"Not necessarily, he wouldn't care how long I'm out," Replied Clove with a shake of her head, a momentary silence passed, "Is it bad I refer to my parent sometimes by their first name inside my head?"

"Do you?" Asked Cato, surprised. As much as he disliked his father at times, he'd never thought of him as an object or just another person, he was always 'father' in his head.

"Sometimes," Replied Clove, a moment passed. "So, why are you out here?"

"Dad and Brutus were betting on how long I would live in the arena." Muttered Cato gloomily, taking a seat on the springy damp grass of the lawn, which glinted slightly in the light of the incandescent white moon.

"Already? Looks like you have it worse than I do," Mused Clove, picking at the grass.

"What? What do your parents do?" Cato asked.

"They want me to volunteer for the games when I come of age. It's like an unspoken curse." She replied.

"But do you want to?"

"Yes, but for my own reasons." Responded Clove, she plucked another few stalks of grass and threw them into the gloom of the air, their silhouettes visible against the blackened sky before falling back on the ground.

"Same with me," Said Cato, picking up a handful of grass as well, "But sometimes I wish people could stop expecting me to enter the games just because my parents are victors, and say it's okay not to volunteer. But I suppose all children of victors feel like they need to."

"Ever wondered what would happen if we didn't?" Questioned Clove, looking at him with inquiring eyes.

Cato shook his head, all his life he had been training for the inevitable games, all his life his parents had been encouraging him, it just seemed an inevitable part of his future, hovering somewhere in the distance with its glimmering gold glory and bitter black battles. "Nope. Impossible." He replied, ripping out a handful of grass, and pausing as he felt the rough dirt streaks on his fingertips, before throwing it away.

They sat in silence for a moment, the sharp sliver of moonlight falling on the soft grass, and seeming to light up the world, Cato took a deep steady breath, the summer air felt moist and humid on his tongue, and as he shook his head a little, a damp patch of _something_ fell on his neck. He turned to the culprit, who was looking deviously at him with a snide triumphant smirk.

It only took one feel of his neck to make out the bits of grass, and with his lightning fast reflexes, Cato tore out a lump of grass and flung it at her, it hit Clove's neck, and sent dirt tumbling down her shirt. She gasped, and then jumped up – the war was on.

For the next few moments, Cato grabbed sticks and leaves, and so did Clove, each chucking and flinging them, their movements flickering in the moonlight and the shadows, their silent laughter evitable on their faces. Cato saw the blur of leaves and sticks, and felt something wet, and slippery, and solid hit him numerous times on the body. After one final chuck, Cato had enough. He turned right around, and started digging up branches, and the soft soil underneath. He coped two armloads of dirt and grass dumped on his back, so he had plenty of fire to fuel his revenge.

"Watch out Clove!" He whispered, his voice unnaturally deep and throaty compared to their previous silence, he scooped up a huge amount of soft speckled dirt in his hands, and launched off his feet, as he aimed for her face. Clove's mouth opened in surprise and her eyes squeezed shut as he tackled into her, and they both fell on the ground, Cato's fingers sliding across her face and leaving a dirt stained mark.

"You –"She exclaimed, seemingly unsure of what to say, as they lay there, on the grass, their chests rising and falling with every breath.

Cato only smirked as he rolled off, and was taken aback by how clear and beautiful the sky looked.

Once Clove had enough time to recollect herself, and brush the worst of the dirt off her clothes, she sighed and said, "Draw?"

Cato glanced at her, "You're lucky it's a draw." He said, mimicking her exact words on the day they fought at the training centre.

Clove smiled but didn't say anything.

Suddenly voices erupted from inside, and the lights dimmed from the living room, Cato heard the slamming of a car door and jumped up. Clove did too.

"What's up?" She exclaimed urgently, and in a flick of movement, she held a slick silver knife in her hand. Cato jumped back, as all the fun of the previous moments drained out of him and a cold shiver wracked his spine. Carrying a knife around with you was just abnormal.

"That's just my parents and my uncle Brutus." He explained. Then there was a sound of laughter from within, and the noise of an engine starting up.

"Right." Said Clove, her face visibly relaxed as she untensed her muscles and let her knife hand drop by her sides.

Now was the time to ask.

"Clove…since when did you carry around a knife?" Asked Cato solemnly, staring at her.

"Since…" Clove's voice trailed off with a funny lilt, and when she looked down at her knife, a flicker of shame and realization seemed to engulf her.

"What? Tell me." Said Cato, not wanting to let this pass. It was just unnatural, nobody he knew, including himself, had ever carried a weapon around with them.

He watched as she swallowed, and looked up, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes, "You remember the day we bumped into each other at the training centre?" She brought up.

"Yes." Replied Cato, as flashes of touring the stations, hand to sword in combat, and laughing as they both collapsed on the ground at the same time flashed back.

"I said I came there when my parents started being unbearable, or something like that, didn't I?" Continued Clove, as the garage door opened up, and Brutus drove out in his show-offish red car, honking loudly and unnecessarily as he swerved and narrowly missed a bin.

"Yeah. You did." Confirmed Cato, now crossing his arms as he stood back and watched Clove carefully. Brutus' red car swerved again as headed in the opposite direction to where he lived, and Cato came to the conclusion that he must be really drunk.

"My parents attacked each other on that morning." Announced Clove, and the truth was out. Cato pressed his arms more firmly against each other, and tried to imagine Kegger, who was a legend of some sort in District Two, attacking – and suddenly he realized he didn't know what Clove's mum looked like. Maybe a little like her, thought Cato as he stared at her and Clove shot him a pointed look. She opened her mouth and said, "What?"

"Nothing." Replied Cato with a shake of his head.

"Ok." Said Clove.

And they let that matter rest, though Cato was still unsure about whether he liked the fact Clove carried around a knife with her. He decided he didn't.

Suddenly Brutus drove back again, he must've figured out he was going in the wrong direction, thought Cato. A loud splintering of wood caught his attention, as the car smashed into the telephone pole, and in the next second, the sleek red shape began looming towards Cato, not showing any sign of stopping.

His heart plummeted to his stomach, and then back to his throat, adrenaline pumped into his bloodstream alongside fear and alarm, he could barely make out Clove's blood curling scream of 'jump' in the night air, and so Cato did. He dived to the left, while Clove jumped to her right, just as Brutus' car shot forwards and then stopped with a rapid crunching of the brakes. Brutus then got out, grabbed the rear mirror in an attempt to steady himself and muttered something about 'too much wine' and peered closely at Cato before saying, 'Cya my little tribute', and driving off into the night. Unfortunately at a much slower pace, with zero guarantee of accidents.

"Why don't you drive much faster huh?" Cato shouted into the retreating black shape – covered in shadows from the night. "And get yourself ki-"

"Cato!" Exclaimed Clove from beside him, then he felt her cool touch on his arm.

"What?" He snapped back angrily.

"It's okay not to volunteer." Was all she said, remembering what he said earlier on.

Strangely that calmed him down, but it also made something click inside him, and when he looked at her, he felt something steadily cold, yet hatred hot resolve in him.

"No it's not okay." He said, still staring at the blank space on the road where Brutus' car had gone out of sight, "I have to volunteer. To show arrogant little jerks like him I can win it, and I'll do everything I can to win, and you can't stop me."

And he meant that, Cato meant all he said and from that day on, he channelled all his rage and hate into a steady passion of killing, and he made a promise to himself that when he volunteered, he was going to kill everyone and no one was going to stop him. Not even Clove.

"Goodnight." Said Clove's voice, breaking into his thoughts as she slid her knife back in, and prepared to head back to her house. It _was_ getting late come to think of it.

"See you around." Said Cato curtly, before disappearing back into his own house.

* * *

**Author's Note: Hey, as some of you might know, this story has 6 chapters and unfortunately not so many reviews, and I would really value and appreciate your feedback, so...review? **

**P.S. I welcome constructive criticism with open hands. (It's my favourite type of review) **


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Thanks for reviewing ****Magikidd and in reply to your review: Thanks, but this story isn't going to be ending anytime soon! What made you think that? I'm planning to have lots more chapters and possibly a sequel. Key word: Possibly.**

**~~XxTigerlilyxX**

Lethal Romance:

Chapter 7:

"Urgh, today is such an uneventful day. The training centre's closed, not to mention we've already graduated and school hasn't started yet." Complained Clove in the heat of the day as she and Cato walked around on the street they both lived in.

"How bored are you?" He questioned mildly, kicking a few pebbles away onto the road.

"So bored I could kill something." Replied Clove without hesitant.

Cato quirked an eyebrow at that but didn't say anything for a bit, finally he said, "How about a swim in the pool?"

Clove was about to retort that she didn't know how to swim, when she remembered there were no pools or large bodies of water in the barren place of district two.

"Where?" She asked incredulously.

"Follow me." Cato had said, and that was how Clove found herself running through the winding streets, and past the loud horn-honking traffic and through short cuts until they arrived in a very secluded part of the district, that looked oddly familiar to Clove.

It was a on the outskirts of the district, where trees and plants grew unattended. A barbed wire fence could be seen winding around the place, and amongst the greenery, was a big rectangle building, with a red tiled roof, old orange and red bricks that had a trail of ivy growing up the sides, and a door that looked way too modern for the building. It was shiny silver with what looked like some kind of retina scanner and no doorknob. Despite the oddness of the place, it sparked some kind of memory within Clove, and she found herself thinking of salt water and florescent white lights and the babble of voices breaking out in an enclosed space.

"Where are we?" She asked aloud, about to reach out and touch the walls when Cato quickly grabbed her hand and pulled it back,

"No, you mustn't touch it. Everything's guarded at the front."

"Come around the back." Cato continued, still not answering her question as he tugged on her wrist, Clove followed as indifferently as possible, but despite her efforts, she couldn't help but feel a streak of curiosity light up inside her.

When they reached the back, it looked pretty much the same as the front, a sleek silver door with no doorknob, a rather large air vent, and the same red and orange bricks – except without the trail of ivy this time.

"Where are we going?" Clove asked, still not seeing the point of this.

"In." Replied Cato with enormous certainty as he grabbed onto the overhanging ledge of the doorframe and swung himself up with a grunt, he tiptoed to the edge and pulled open the air vent, suddenly things became clear to Clove.

This was the district two's one and only swimming pool, where students learnt how to swim for the Hunger Games. In district two, there was basically a huge grassy hill – big enough to be a small mountain, where quarry was mined, then there was the high class towns, clustered around the mine, the victor's village not that far away, then the various academies scattered around, with other factories and places Clove had never been on the outskirts of the district. There was no lake or river in the district, water and other unattainable supplies were shipped in from the capitol in exchange for offering some peacekeepers and other small deeds. But it was silly to breed district two tributes who had no idea how to swim, so the district had a small building with a swimming pool, and all students from the ages of 7 to 8 participated in one term of highly intensive swimming classes, and after that – none. So you either knew how to swim when you were younger, or didn't at all, and unfortunately Clove fell into the latter group. She had never liked the pool, with its striking resemblance to that bathtub at home where something happened that stayed in her nightmares forever.

"I'm not going in." She said.

"I thought you wanted to cool down." Cato said, and his words seemed to follow his eyes. Although it was a statement, it seemed more of a question.

Grudgingly Clove agreed to go in, and grabbed the knife out of her pocket. The same vegetable knife she'd grabbed on impulse the day her parents attacked each other. It made her feel safe, secure and protected, and once slice of that lovely feeling which Clove seldom felt was enough to make her keep that knife around, at current she slammed the knife heavily between the cement, and sort of used it as a ledge to pull herself up with one hand, the other grabbing onto the ledge of the door and heaving herself up with more difficulty then Cato. Clove felt a feeling of unease prickle inside her at the height, followed by a startling feeling of superiority since she was higher than everything, then grabbed her knife back out and looked at Cato who was perched on the edge of the ledge.

"I'm going to jump for it, the bottom of the air vent won't hold my weight, nor yours for a matter. It only looks like a nine foot drop." Muttered Cato cautiously, peering in.

"Okay." Breathed Clove.

Cato stared at the hole for a bit longer, then he stuck his hands through and grabbed the inside of the building, swung his legs through and disappeared within. A loud thud resonated from the building, than, heart thumping, Clove crept closer to do the same.

The air vent lead into a large rectangular room, which had a rectangular pool in the middle, the water lightly tainted lavender from the fluorescent lights. All around the pool were cold white tiles, and Clove knew from memory that there was a changing room on either end, one for each gender. She looked down below, and saw Cato, who had gotten off the ground and was now standing up and beckoning her in.

Clove took a breath, counted to three, then grasped the top of the vent, her fingernails failing to catch on, she swung her feet over just as she flipped back and the world flashed by in a clump of greens and browns. Her back flexed on instinct, and in less than a second, Clove was through the air vent and falling, falling, the ground a steadily white blur.

She landed on all fours with a smack, as her vision cleared. Clove barely had enough time to take in the room and the pool – which looked a lot different down here than from up there – when Cato barrelled into her, and they both fell in with a splash. The coolness of the water submerged Clove and brought instant relief to the heat of the day, she brought her head out of the water with the droplets still on her face, luckily she found the depth was only waist deep and she was able to stand, and she wasn't wearing much clothes anyway, so there wasn't much dragging her down, but all the same, she took off her dripping wet jumper and saw Cato had done the same – his brown jacket in a clump off to the side of the room.

"You could've killed me you know?" Clove joked, flinging her jumper to join Cato's.

"How? You can't drown in waist deep water," Remarked Cato with a smirk.

"Yeah well, I could've hit my head, loss consciousness and then drowned." Reasoned Clove.

"That won't happen while I'm around." Announced Cato, splashing her affectionately with a wave of water, Clove yelped.

"Are you ok?" Asked Cato a moment later, looking apologetic.

"Huh? No, I think there's something in my eye…" Trailed of Clove, looking down. Cato came over and leaned in close, suddenly Clove snapped her hands and instantly belted out a wave of water that hit Cato in the face. She smiled, victorious.

"Are you challenging me?" Asked Cato once he wiped his face clear of water.

"Is the sky blue?" Replied Clove, before splashing another wave of water on his face, and before she saw it coming, Cato retaliated with a dive and Clove felt cold fingers grasp her ankle. She retaliated with a sharp kick to his face.

For the next few moments, Cato and Clove splashed around, Cato somehow going easy on Clove, she had a slight inkling of a feeling that he sensed she wasn't that confident in the water. Within no time, all the heat from the day seemed to vanish, and Clove had really enjoyed herself, she couldn't remember feeling more happy or open in her life then around Cato.

"Hey, you want to come out to the deeper end?" Asked Cato, motioning to the far end of the pool, Clove felt her gut twist, now was the time to tell.

"I can't swim, Cato." She admitted, a little embarrassed.

"Oh, can't you?" Remarked Cato with another smirk of casual arrogance, as he rolled on his back and floated in the water just to show her that he could.

"Teach me." Said Clove grimly, crossing her arms a little.

"Alright, but you have to come out where it's a bit deeper, for me to teach you."

Clove swallowed as she nervously inched her way across, aware of the water slowly creeping up her sides, immobilizing her legs and waist until it lapped just below her chest. Water was really one of her weaknesses.

"You might as well climb out and jump in from the sides," Announced Cato, "It'll take you less time."

Clove didn't know what to feel at that, relieved or betrayed that Cato thought she was that slow getting in the water? But as Clove reached the side of the pool, and hauled herself out, she felt her ease returning now she was back on dry land, Cato floated around and treaded water as he waited for her, his green shirt clung to his muscular body as he waited for her arrival.

With a deep breath, Clove jumped in the end she knew her feet wouldn't touch, and flickered her eyes open. It was strange and startling at the same time, and when her eyes looked down, a sudden silver of fear shot up her spine and immobilized her once again. She had expected the pool to be only a bit deeper than her height, but now, looking at the darkening gloom of the water, and the frightening words 'four metres' scrawled amongst the glistening reflective tiles at the bottom that flashed as the water rippled, she felt scared, and frightened.

Fear crept up her throat and lodged itself in her brain, she tried to move, to swim back up, but all to no avail. Her lungs burned, the water that once felt so refreshingly cool seemed to be pressing into her, smothering her, she opened her mouth and gasped in a big breath, only to find her chest screaming in agony as water entered.

Clove had heard that if you breathed in enough water, your vision would blur, then you would be dis-coordinated and dis-embodied, and drift off into a dreamland of your own, while you were bordering somewhere between death and unconsciousness.

Right now, she was feeling the first effects of drowning.

Her vision was rapidly blurring, soon everything just seemed a smudged black or blue, then a feeling of unsettling calm radiated from her, and objects swam in front of her eyes, and around her body, she couldn't move her hands nor feet, she didn't try. Images flashed before her head, and she saw her life reeling before her, her mother, geraniums, chrysanthemums, clovers, big orange objects that swam before her eyes, something cool touching her back, it might've been a knife, she wasn't sure, the training centre, her instructor Mrs Stephens whom she came to like after some time, the test, the most recent Hunger Games where a boy from district 6 fell in to a frozen lake, and by the time he swam back up to the surface, it had already iced over and he was trapped with his inevitable death. And lastly, she saw Cato, Cato's face scowling at her, Cato smiling at her, Cato calling her name, and Clove realized on the brink of her death, that she liked Cato like no other.

No – like was too weak a word.

She _loved _him.


	8. Chapter 8

Lethal Romance:

Chapter 8:

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

Various other words and obscenities flittered into his brain, as he looked at the ever decreasing amount of air bubbles and braced himself for the dive.

In one strong kick and movement of his hips, he was shimmering through the water towards Clove, whose body had already begun to grow rigid as the last wisps of oxygen left her in pitifully miniscule air bubbles.

It was all so stupid! It was his fault! His entire stupid stupid fault. He should have never convinced her to jump down here in the first place, sure he was doing it under the intention of teaching her how to swim, but Cato had always thought at the back of his mind, that she'd somehow keep afloat and everything would go smoothly, he had forgotten that she'd first have to know how to tread water to keep afloat – which she didn't.

The blurred form of Clove was falling, softly, gently, into the depths of the pool, but Cato was getting closer. His lungs ached with the longing to breathe, he couldn't hold his breath for much longer, but Cato managed to latch onto Clove's icy cold hand and haul her up a bit, before he released and shot up to the surface of the water himself. Relief hit him like an arrow, short but sweet as he breathed in oxygen to his lung's content, then he disappeared once more under the water and swam to Clove, who had started sinking again.

This time, Cato caught her at the back, and used two hands to grip her under each arm, and swim towards the surface. The fact that they were vertical helped, as well as the fact that Clove's usually light weight was even lessened in the water.

Once they broke the surface, Cato breathed heavily, before towing her to the side, where he flipped her over, and climbed out of the pool.

She was lying there - limp, with her hair coming out in strands and sticking to her face and the cold tiled floor, he rolled her over to her side and then thought what to do.

She was breathing, even if it weren't healthy breaths, but sharp uneven gasps with the uncanny trickle of water within her lungs, she was nonetheless, alive - just unconscious.

Cato tried rustling her hair next to her ears, shaking her gently on the shoulders, but he received no response. Panic coursed through him as he willed himself to think back to his instructor's lessons on life saving back when he was eight.

"_To save a drowning patient, one must…" _

"_Put their hand to their chest and do chest pumps?" Suggested a seven year old kid beside Cato. _

"_Close, but before that?" Came the teacher's voice, so calm and soft. _

"_Turn them over on their sides and listen for breathing?" _

"_Correct." Now the teacher gave a sharp nod to the kid who answered, "There are two choices known to humans today to save a drowning patient. One is to squeeze their nose and pump air into their lungs using your own mouth, this is called resuscitation. The other is to give defibrillation, which is to pump their chest with your hands. Sometimes people alternate between the two options for thirty seconds and-" _

Cato snapped out of that memory, now that he had obtained the knowledge of what to do in this situation. Right, he only had two options, resuscitation and defibrillation – how hard could it be?

He stored a deep breath in his lungs, and was just about to pinch her nose and preform resuscitation when he realized one thing – his mouth was going to touch hers, actually _touch_ hers and stay there, and that was…

He looked hesitantly at Clove, he didn't think she knew or if she did - noticed it, but she was beautiful – even in her sprawled out form. With her brown hair plastered to the sides of her face, her skin a light beige, the freckles upon her cheeks which he always thought were cute, and the small smile on her lips, even as she was lying there, about to die.

The other option was to start defibrillation, which as Cato thought over, was also going to be incredibly awkward, with Clove's small slim form outlined by her tight clothes, and the small bumps on her chest which wasn't there before…

He decided to just go with the resuscitation, and was about to blow air into her lungs as he pinched her nose when she coughed and awoke.

"Clove…" He whispered, startled by her sudden consciousness but yet pleased.

"Cato…" She croaked out as if her life depended on it, her slightly glassy eyes found his and her lips spread into a dreamy smile, "Is this our first kiss?"

"I…" Suddenly he realized how close his lips were to hers, just inches away really.

Suddenly Clove collapsed again, her head hitting the floor with a light thud, Cato's pulse rick rocketed as his heart jumped to his throat, then he calmed down. Call it intuition, but something inside him told him Clove was going to be alright.

Within seconds, Clove awoke again with a splutter, the light back in her eyes. She coughed and retched as the water expelled itself from her body.

Afterwards, Cato watched her shivering form, and left to get his jumper, which thankfully wasn't wet as he'd thought to take it off before he jumped in the pool. It felt warm and fuzzy in his hand.

"You're shirt's all wet." He said, handing it to her, "Here, change into this."

"Okay." Muttered Clove, Cato looked away as she changed, and once she'd finished he noted she had stopped shivering as much.

"So, you okay?" He asked, raising an eyebrow in concern.

"Yeah." Clove swallowed, "I jumped in and didn't realise just how deep the deep end was. Then I nearly drowned and woke up to cough up all this water." She said.

"That's it? That's all you remember?" Cato asked.

"Yes."

A momentary silence fell, then he said, "Come on, we should get going."

The journey back up and out was much easier than the journey down, especially as they both had experience with the wall now and Cato concluded that Clove didn't remember anything from the first time she awoke, nothing at all, and he had mixed feelings towards that. On the one hand it had been weird, and with her not remembering it lessened the chance of an awkward moment between the two, on the other he wondered where had that come from. He heard sometimes in life and death situations people say things they've always wanted to say but never did, and he thought about his own reaction to that, how his heart had beat irregularly and a strange feeling overcame him.

"Cato, watch where you're going."

Clove's voice startled him out of his thoughts with a flash, Cato's eyes zoned in on the prickly brown bark of a tree too close for his liking. He gingerly backed away, "Thanks." He replied, realizing that he must've been about to walk in it.

"Don't be. And also, thanks for saving me. I…wouldn't be alive if you didn't." Murmured Clove.

Cato looked at her, wondering if she remembered anything at all, even though he knew she didn't, but it just wouldn't untangle itself from his thoughts, "Uh, no worries. It was a split second decision anyway."

"Mm."

He could see she knew he was distracted, and because she knew him so well, Clove grabbed his arm and her slow walk broke into an impatient jog, "Race?" She said because they'd raced each other plenty times before, and she knew it helped take his mind of things "Back to our houses?"

"You're on." Cato replied, and they both ran through the woods, streaming past the blurry forms of greenery and trees, until they reached the more industrialized part of district two again, and began running through the streets and around corners.

It was nearly sunset now, the sky was tinged a flamboyant orange, more colourful than the orangest fruit, and the sun a slice of red, slowly sinking into the horizon, and casting long pretty shadows. Within minutes both of their previously wet clothes had dried up, and Clove's jumper (which she had the sense to grab before they left the place) was also dry. It was as they were one street away from their home, at the intersection that was surprisingly free of other people, Cato risked asking what was on his mind since that afternoon's events, "Have you ever kissed someone?" He'd asked, looking at her, yet taking care to avoid being in the direct path of her dark brown iris'.

"What? No, never have, never will. What makes you think that?" Asked Clove, now her usual hard shell and demeanour back.

Cato pretended to smile an amused smile as he said, "Because you have the word 'love' in your name," and hoped that was explanation enough.

"OHH…You...!" An poigent moment passed, in which Clove looked perfectly horrified, "You know I'm never going to think of myself the same again right?" She said, and smacked Cato playfully on the arm.

The sun sank beneath the horizon, sweeping the city in a sudden oncast of grey as the traffic light turned green, and two kids, one girl one boy, raced across the road and through the street to the victor's village, laughing and swatting each other with what little happiness they had in their clouded hunger-games-worshipping-district life.


	9. Chapter 9

Lethal Romance:

Chapter 9:

Urgh. Start of school.

Like all school holidays, they had to end sometime, and soon start of Ares Training Academy was looming right in Cato's face. He'd been excited at first, especially when he got his uniform and supplies mailed to him on the last day of the school holidays as with everyone else, and when he spoke to his friends, whom he just realized he hadn't kept in contact with that much during the school holidays, over the phone about Ares Training Academy.

They were all excited.

Cato hadn't seen Clove around much near the end of the holidays, not after that fateful day when she nearly drowned, but she occupied his mind with a mess of emotions almost every single day and night.

Until now that was, standing in the red hot dusty plains before the white building in which he originally got tested, all that was on Cato's mind was how unbearably hot and squishy it was, with all his peers and classmates pressing into him as they crowded in the dusty area, early for their first day of Ares Training Academy.

"Hey mate, how was your school holidays?" Questioned a familiar friendly voice behind him, followed by footsteps and chortling of more than one person.

Cato turned around. "Good you're finally here, what took you so long?" He said, staring at the faces of his friends. Hastam, Brunner, Fuglacior and Jimmy, they had been his friends for as long as he could remember, and he felt glad that they were there.

Hastam was a small lean boy with shockingly white hair that was so rare in district two and brash red eyes, almost like the cross section of a freshly sliced ruby. He was pretty sporty, (they all were), but he was the only one who participated in, and enjoyed non-Hunger Games-training related sports, his favourite being hockey. Currently he was standing in front of Brunner, arms crossed as if he were ready for anything.

Brunner was behind, about a quarter of his body obscured, but his remarkable height enabled his face and neck to be seen above Hastam's white head, he had one hand casually grasping his other arm in a relaxed position, a smile on his face and light in his cerulean blue eyes. Brunner was cool, calm under panicky circumstances and had the authority of a natural born leader, but most of the time he was relaxed and easy going instead.

Next were Fuglacior and Jimmy, standing equally far behind Brunner, pinching and punching each other in a brotherly fashion. (Even though they weren't related)

Fuglacior was a bit on the plump side, with well-oiled slick brown hair and eyes alight with mischievous delight. He was an only child, and therefore a bit spoilt and full of himself, but he was alright, and could always make anyone in the group smile when they were down.

Jimmy was an entirely different story, he was cold, silent, intimidating to anyone who didn't know him well, but to his friends, he was trustworthy, loyal and remarkably fun to be around with once he'd gotten to know and trust them individually and had loosened up. Jimmy's mother had died when he was seven, leaving a two month old child and three years old twins at that time, for his father to raise. Although Cato and the others didn't mention or pester him about it, and Jimmy never talked about it, they all knew sometimes that responsibility was pushed onto him as he was the eldest child, and he resented it. Perhaps that was why he was so sullen and untrusting to everyone at first sight.

Together they made the Careers of the grade, people who would actually go on to compete in the games, because although there were a lot of students at Ares Training Academy, only a handful of them actually got to compete in the games, and most just past the Reaping years uneventful as ever and did other things with their life once they graduated. The Careers generally consisted of five or six people, all pretty popular, feared/worshipped within the grade, and they were called the Careers because they were the ones more likely to volunteer for the Games and become a victor as a career. Either that or they'd die trying.

Suddenly a high pitched shrill voice jolted Cato out of his thoughts.

He turned around and saw Clove, standing there in her grey school uniform with her bag nestled over her shoulder, her brown hair tied up in a respectable ponytail on her first day.

Although Cato hadn't mentioned it, and it had never bothered him that much, Clove had pretty much no friends, and was a loner throughout the years at Ares Academy. She had been given a wide berth by almost everyone, and the only thing that stopped her being the schoolyard bullies' next pick, was her fearsome reputation. Comprised of mostly rumours and the same one story of her throwing a knife at an instructor on her first day that had been stretched so much, it nowhere resembled the truth.

"Oh hey," Greeted Cato, dimly aware that his Career reputation might go down a little in the eyes of the grade if they'd seen him talking to her - Clove the eccentric freak she was called, but at the back of his mind, throbbing with the equivalent effect of big block letters on a sheet of paper, were the words 'I don't care'. He didn't care what the rest of the grade thought. He didn't care that much of his reputation. All he cared about were himself and her. And he could talk to her, and hang around her as much as he wanted.

"First day of training, are you excited? I am, I brought my knife!" Exclaimed Clove, unable to see what was wrong with her words. Instantly Cato's friends, who'd been semi-curious before, were all alert and suspicious now. Fuglacior stopped engaging in play fight with Jimmy, Jimmy dropped his hand that was raised in retaliation of a playful punch, Hastam tensed, as did Brunner, stepping forward with his arms folded tightly and a hard look in his cerulean blue eyes.

"Who are you?" He said politely, but coldly. Cato knew Brunner wasn't one to bully and intimidate, but he also knew that Brunner wasn't deaf to the rumours circulating around this particular girl.

"Yeah. What are you doing here?" Jimmy said, flashing his cold grey-blue eyes at her.

"Do you know her?" Demanded Fuglacior, crossing his arms as well.

"She's Clove," Cato responded quietly, receiving questioning looks as a cloud flew over the sun, and the teachers emerged just as the sharp siren shrill peals of the bell came, signalling for quiet. Training had suddenly begun.

Xxx xxx xxx

Everything about Ares Training Academy made the junior Ares Academy seem juvenile, and silly in comparison.

At first sight they were treated to a video on the importance of the Hunger Games, and explaining how the volunteers were selected, then they received a proper tour around the place, looking at the many gyms, and training rooms, and the abundance of weaponry in closed glass cases. Clove had a feeling they were guarded more closely then it appeared.

It was during recess that the first of the many people that would be following and taunting Clove around the school came up to her, a tall glistening blonde haired girl, with pale blue eyes, whose only emotion was hints of mockery. Her lips twitched as she fell in step beside Clove and announced, "Cato knows you?"

Her friends, who were standing a couple of metres back, keeping track of the conversation, laughed and sneered at Clove.

Clove felt her eyebrows stitch together into a frown, anger boiling up inside of her like waves of heat unleashed, "I-"

"You would think it was a joke." Interrupted the girl (Amy was it?), showing no intention of wanting to hear Clove's reply, her friends laughed shrilly from a metre away, casting haughty glances over at Clove, "Cato, popular outgoing Cato, knowing a freak like you." She paused for affect, then added, "How is that possible?"

The ringing voices of her friends as they doubled over laughing, the wicked sly glances of superiority they sent her, Amy's satisfied smirk proved all too much for Clove, because the next second she had her hand out, knife prised between her fingers, never mind that it felt funny for some reason, she was ready to throw, and kill. Oh the satisfying crunch of bones and blood beneath her fingers, the soft plunge of the silky smooth blade of her knife sinking into her flesh, so pale and delicate – about to be stained bright red. Clove was jerked out of her daydreams by Amy's impossibly shrill laughter, looking like she was about to die of immense comedy.

"What?" Stuttered out Clove instantly, then realized why exactly, her knife felt so weird and forlorn in her fingers as she next flexed them – the knife wasn't there at all!

Panic shot through Clove faster than a speeding bullet, emerging her from head to toe, she jumped as if someone sent an electric current through her toes and stared at her empty right hand. She would've sworn she put her knife in the usual slot of her pants pocket before school this morning, she could've sworn she had it after she was done sharpening it – oh! Sharpening! She had forgotten her knife after sharpening, now the image ransacked her brain, vivid and fresh. Of her vegetable knife, freshly sharpened, lying there on the kitchen table, forgotten as she headed to school. Forgotten. She had forgotten her knife, and hadinstinctively whipped it out of where she thought it would be to kill this annoying little girl who was taunting her, embarrassment flowed through her, clear as water, then came fear. Great crumbling fear, she hadn't been anywhere without her knife before, she hadn't even let it out of her sight during the holidays!

The fabrics of their uniform touched her fingers, as she pushed aside the laughing crowd around her – they must've gotten a good laugh over her defencelessness. Clove raced away, she didn't know where, she didn't exactly know why – the only thing she knew was that she was without her knife, and that, wasn't safe. Not for her.

_Xxx xxx xxx_

By noon Cato had also felt the effects the evident downfall of his reputation from knowing Clove. All around him, people were teasing and taunting him for knowing a 'freak' like Clove, as they called her, though he didn't really think she was a freak. Some of the impossibly adoring and worshipping fangirls were even turning on him, turning their backs and laughing their snarky crude laughter as he came near, stinging his ego with their whips.

And he still owed his friends an explanation. It was at the session before lunch, the girls and boys of the Academy had been split up, Cato and his friends were currently waiting in line, the people at the front had to run through 25m with instructors throwing knives and flinging arrows and launching punches at them.

"So." Said Brunner, crossing his arms for the umpteenth time that day, and raising his eyebrows at Cato, silently demanding an explanation.

"They're teasing her again," Muttered Hastam, peering over at what the girls were doing – it wasn't that far really, and occasionally when the instructors weren't looking, boys and girls who weren't having their turns with dodging would walk across and talk and gossip to each other.

"I know." Said Cato, then sighed, knowing he really owed them an explanation, "Look. Clove's not really that bad a person as you all think she is. Sure she's different, actually she's very different, but there's more to her then you might think."

All four of his friends stared back at him with shocked or surprised faces. Finally Jimmy spoke, "Look. You've been with us through the tough times, and tolerated each of our undesirable traits and differences. We'd do that with you."

"So you won't brand me as an outcast just because I know her?" Asked Cato, slightly shocked with relief.

"Nah," Brunner murmured, shaking his head and giving Cato a thump on the back.

"You're still in our group." Said Fuglacior, smiling warmly.

"Hey, I heard the gossip. Apparently Clove did some weird move with her hand at recess today, Amythest thought it was a fail move at tae kwon do, but apparently now Clove's jumping up and down in a fit or something, rumours say she keeps muttering about a missing knife." Announced Hastam, nodding his head in the girl's direction.

Cato felt his blood run cold, only he knew how much that knife really meant to Clove.

"Must be a butterknife," Concluded Fuglacior matter of factly, "Bit funny to be that freaked out a missing butterknife but…"

"Some people must really like their bread buttered!" Exclaimed Hastam, and the group dissolved into fits of laughter. Cato laughed along to fit in.

"Well look," Announced Brunner, trying to sum everything up as their turn at the dodging of weapons were coming up pretty soon, "We'll accept and tolerate Clove as long as you're on good terms with her, and I believe what you say about her. I trust your judgement, but you know, you're going to have to perform wonders, or a miracle to get the rest of the grade to like her, or to even respect the two of you together."

And Cato couldn't even say anything back because his turn was next.

_Xxx xxx xxx_

At lunch, Clove was hyperventilating pretty badly behind the school toilets. She knew she should calm down, just forget about it – shake it off, but she couldn't help the cold feeling of unease withering and snaking inside her. She just couldn't shake it off. Ever since her mother's accident she had pretty much trusted no one, because the very person she loved, trusted and poured her thoughts and love into, had completely rejected her, and she had found a way to channel that cold feeling of mistrust – which was to carry around a knife of hers. To protect her, to keep her safe, and with that gone, she felt like a vital part of her shell had been stripped away.

At last she gave up standing, and humped sideways against the cold brick wall, feeling it's coolness seep through her. She reached up her knife throwing hand to brush a strand of hair out of her face, when a big burly shadow fell across the ground, and the next second Cato joined her, behind the school toilets, something in his hand. "Hey." He announced, looking glad to see her.

"Hey," Greeted Clove, smiling up at him as she looked at him properly for the first time since the holidays. He looked well nourished, strong and buff as usual, but in replacement of his usual arrogance and cockiness, was an embarrassed air of defeat.

"My knife, I forgot it." Said Clove suddenly, remembering what happened at recess and the amount of teasing she had to endure afterwards, "I'm also the laughing stock of the school."

"I know. We both are." Said Cato a little uncomfortably, fidgeting with something in his hands before uncovering it, and revealing a shining silver knife. Clove felt the blood pump around her ears, and energy return back to her, "Is that a…?"

"Yes, it's the butterknife for my sandwich, not your usual..."

"Vegetable knife, but a knife is a knife," Replied back Clove, reaching out tentatively to touch it. It felt cold and cool between her fingertips.

"I figured." Replied Cato, smiling understandingly.

"They're all laughing at us, you know. Saying…I'm not good enough for you." Clove muttered, while testing the weight of the butterknife between her fingertips. It wasn't as heavy nor as sturdy as her vegetable one, and the edges were far from sharp, but it was smooth and familiar and much better than not having a knife at all.

"That's not very true," Said Cato suddenly, confidently, assertively, making Clove look up to him, "Our parents shared the same fate, they both won their games, causing us to live on the same street. We've been born to compete, raised to kill. What can _they_ say? We're made for each other."

And Clove didn't know whether it was the certainty in his voice, or the quivering of her fingers from the adrenaline rushing through her at his words, but somehow, she threw the knife, feeling the cold air replace the feel of the metal between her fingers. The air shimmered grey, and the next second, a hunk of bark split in two, as the tip of the butterknife sliced straight within it.

Three inches deep.

Xxx xxx xxx

"Alright everyone! Get in pairs!" Yowled Kingsley after lunch, he was one of the main instructors, alongside Kath and Jul. Kath was the tall stern one, with her lips always drawn in a tight line as she surveyed the students like they'd failed her already. Kingsley was tall, bold and according to some of the older students, had a sense of humour. Jul meanwhile, was the headmaster of the Academy, his height would be considered tall, if it weren't for his massive pot belly which really made him seem shorter. Jul had thick brown hair, fearsome brown eyes and he strutted about the students, demanding them to be at their very fittest even though he looked far from fit himself. Apparently he was only going to be here today, so he could welcome the students and survey them, and as the majority of the grade secretly thought; show off his power and dominance.

The grade as a whole followed Kingsley's instructions, dividing into clumps of two. Three girls wanted to be together, but once it entered their mind that they couldn't possibly, two of them clasped hands and glared at the third one with steely eyes. In the real Hunger Games, there were only allies and enemies, and if you weren't an ally, you were an enemy.

Cato looked about, and saw Hastam still hadn't a partner, so he grouped with him, Hastam was fast and nimble on his feet, and was surprisingly good at judo, while Cato was strong and able with a sword. Together they made a pretty good pair. Suddenly Kingsley's voice shot through the air, sounding wry and amused at the same time, "Partner up boy girl boy girl," He announced, glowering at all single gender teams, "What we're doing today, is a single elimination tournament. Basically, each group will be partnered up to another group, and they will all commence in a fight until every pair has a winning team and a loser. Then, all the losing teams will sit out, and the winning teams will be rematched and this will keep going until there's only two teams left, which will verse each other and the winner gets an award!" Barked Kingsley, pointing to two golden trophies sitting on a table at the corner of the room. The students all turned and looked, some gulped while others looked determined. Finally, someone spoke,

"Excuse me, is this major?" Questioned a student.

"You are quite a fool to consider this of any importance, compared to the rest of the tasks you will be doing throughout your years here, this is very minor. It is just a fun game that tests your partner work, seeing as the Hunger Games is fought with two people, one girl one boy." Interrupted Kath; all in one breath, there was dead silence after that.

Cato looks at Hastam regretfully, and Hastam shrugs and voices what's on both of their minds, "We'd better split up." He says.

"Yep."

Suddenly there's an extra loud clap, and Kingsley's voice is yowling at them to partner up now, the grade as a whole scrambles under his gaze, and some students latch onto anyone of the opposite gender they could find, not wanting to possibly get in trouble or left out on their first day at Ares Training Academy.

Cato bumps into Clove, who quickly grins and latches onto his arm with a vice like grip, "Together?" She offers.

"Together." Cato says, not needing very long to make up his mind.

"Right, we've got an advantage don't we?" Clove remarks, glancing at him.

Cato nods as he remembers the day they met up at Ares Academy's training centre, and versed each other with the swords. They both knew each other's strengths and weaknesses, and had had a feel of each other's abilities in combat. It gave them a huge advantage, and Cato remembered Clove was good with knives, he was good with swords, and they were both so-so with dodging and hand to hand combat.

"Yep, let's use it." Replied Cato, feeling his chest boil up with fury and determination, now was a good chance to take out all that anger he had had on Brutus, his father, numerous other people, and use it to his advantage. Now was a chance to fight.

Cato crossed and uncrossed his hands; feeling like this was close to what he had been born for.

Xxx xxx xxx

**Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait in between updates, the fight is in the next chapter, I hoped this chapter proved satisfactionary for all you readers, and if there's anything you want me to improve on, please tell me via PM or review. **

**Also, if you're interested, the reason why I took so long to write and upload this chapter was because back when I was writing chapter four… (I think, or one of the chapters quite a while back) I had drawn up a plotline of all the events that were to happen in later chapters, and I stupidly pointed at one and was all like 'ooh that looks fun, let's write that', so I started writing the beginning of chapter 9 for fun, then deleted it, and when I actually got to chapter 9 (as in, written the chapters before that) I found the beginning that I had written a while back didn't fit the story since I wasn't aware of all the character development that happened between chapters four and nine, so I had to completely rewrite the beginning and strangely that was incredibly hard because the original (and inaccurate one) kept sticking to my head, so that's why it took so long for me to update. **

**I'm also not sure whether you've noticed the alternating perspectives of the characters per chapter (Clove's POV, then Cato's, then Clove's, etc), but if you did and noticed that I broke that rule in this one, it was because once I got over how to start the beginning, the chapter just came to me in both their perspectives. :) but that's not going to be very commonplace, so next chapter it'll all be in one person's POV. **

**-XxTigerlilyxX**


	10. Chapter 10

Lethal Romance:

Chapter 10:

Clove watches as Cato crosses his arms, and stares determinedly ahead. He may or may not realize it, but we've got an advantage, she thinks, remembering the day long time ago when she first grabbed the knife, and sprinted away from the house, to find peace and solitude and push these conflicting emotions inside of her away as she headed for the training centre and…bumped into Cato.

It was there that she nearly threw a knife at him, and they talked and versed each other in a swordfight. He's strong and fast with that sword, she thinks, and it was only by a miracle that we drew, otherwise he would've won.

"Ahem hem," Coughed Kingsley, clapping again to signal finding-partner time was over, and the majority of the grade was partnered up boy girl boy girl now, save for two or four people who quickly latched together on the last second. "Now, each pair will elect one person to pick a weapon of their choice from the weapons room, there are a limited amount of weapons on there, enough to provide one for every group, but not enough to provide every the group the weapon of your choice. So you better elect your group member fast. And also, the person that wields the weapon cannot change throughout the matches. The weapons room is that way," Kingsley announced, pointing at a door with a yellow border around it and the large sign that said 'weapons' engraved on the front, "Think fast. Go!" He exclaimed, finishing off his instructions.

Instantly, all groups exploded into conversation and arguments, their voices rising in pitch like a spiralled bird going out of control, ascending higher and higher into the sky. Clove turned to look at Cato, her gaze catching his readiness and steely determination at the prospect of a battle, as she announced, "Swords or knives – no need to debate who wields what. So, what's your choice?"

"Well you're better at knives then me with my sword, deadlier." Announced Cato, cocking his head slightly as he spoke.

"Yeah. Only at killing." Deadpanned Clove.

"And what's wrong with that?"

"It's not allowed."

"Kingsley never said that."

"He doesn't need to," Said Clove with a roll of her eyes, "It's downright obvious. When has District Two ever approved of killing possible tributes before the Games?"

"Good point, so…swords it is?" Asked Cato.

"Yep. Go now," Said Clove, poking him in the stomach to tell him to get a move on, other groups around them were starting to get an idea of their partners strengths and weaknesses.

"No need to worry, I know which weapon to get and why," Remarked Cato, catching Clove's wrists and bringing them forward for a few unwavering moments before he released them and ran away to the weapons room.

"Think fast! Run straight!" Cried Clove, laughing quietly to herself as she watched Cato's disappearing form. Her wrists still tingled warmly where he'd last touched them.

Xxx xxx xxx

"Okay, on your marks. Ready? Get set! GO!" Screamed Jul once all teams were paired up.

Clove and Cato were up against Yancy and Molli, two very small people who weren't very well matched together. Molli had the weapon – which was a pair of nunchucks, made with plastic surrounded by rubber so it wouldn't do any real damage.

On the count of 'go', Yancy had bumped into Molli as they both headed in the same direction, and Molli swung her non-chuck instinctively and defensively and knocked him upside the head. Cato and Clove exchanged glances, but wasted no time in cornering their opponents. Cato look care of Molli, who happened to be closer to him, and Clove tackled Yancy, who did a sidestep at the last minute and escaped the full brunt of the attack, but didn't escape being flung on the floor with Clove. He lashed out with his foot, aiming for her stomach, but Clove wasn't about to be hit, she blocked using her arms and hopped back up, ignoring the burst of pain in her left hand upon contact, it would go away after some time. Clove knew, and it didn't feel as if anything was broken. She lashed out with her right hand, aiming a punch, Yancy ducked and rolled to his right, but Clove blocked him with her foot, and lunged, wrapping her arm around his in a head lock.

Yancy tried to scramble free, with his stubby fingers prising at her grip, but Clove had it good and strong and she wasn't about to let him free. Her eyes sought Cato, who had Molli successfully pinned on the floor with one foot, and silently asked him what to do. Cato nodded at Yancy, then back at Molli and made a turning motion with his hand. _Oh, so opponents' team members have to be pinned on their backs to have lost_, thought Clove as she flipped Yancy over, and shoved him on the ground, but Yancy scrambled up and locked an arm around Clove, getting ready to flip _her_ over.

Clove resisted by sharply twisting her arm, and there came a sharp pop from Yancy's right arm, which had loosened its grip on her, in fact, all of Yancy had loosened up as he went slack against the ground on his back, admitting defeat in loud moaning groans. Clove sighed and kept a hand on his non-injured arm to keep him under control in case he leapt up again. His injury didn't look that bad, and it wasn't as if his arm was bent in a 's' shape or bleeding or anything. If Clove had been in his shoes, she would've gotten up, tried to use her remaining three limbs and keep going! _Because you don't win if you give up at the first injury_, she thought bitterly, _You have to keep going, even if it hurts, and if you don't, someday that's going to cost your life in the Hunger Games._

"Alright, looks like most of us are done, with the exception of these two." Announced Kingsley, Clove blinked as she realized everyone else around her was done fighting, and all groups either had a winning or losing team. In the distance, two pairs were still going. Though one of them (the male) was slumped out on his back with a stocky girl's foot pinned on his chest. The male of the girls' team was lunging and dunking and throwing punches at the remaining girl, who was tall and stringy with a good sized whip in her hands, which she snapped and crackled with expert's skill. Even though she was disadvantaged as the girl in the opponent team threw out a few good punches and slashes with her knife whenever she got close, , the girl somehow managed to perform an unexpected trick with the whip, seemingly aiming for the boy's right side, but missing on purpose and luring him into spinning towards his teammate and before either of them had time to retaliate, she grabbed both ends of the whip, looped it around them, and sent them both tumbling to the crowd with a sharp sadistic pull that drew gasps from the crowd and peachy redness from the previously smooth texture of the opponent team's skin. Clove watched as the girl spat at the ground, and glared her seemingly useless partner in the eye as he got up shakily.

"Well done, both of you have done brilliantly," Said Kath, and it took Clove a moment to realize she was actually talking to the girl with the whip, and the boy who had been throwing punches instead of the whip girl and her partner. "Now, losing teams sit out, and winning teams chose an opponent to battle!" She announced.

The losing pairs got up (some shakily and slightly battered and bruised), and headed out to sit on a patch of floor. Clove glanced at Cato, then at the remaining teams, to which Cato gave a reassuring smile that said 'you pick'. So Clove, wanting more of a challenge then whimpy Mollie and Yancy, went over and picked what looked like the toughest competitors within battling distance. A pair named Julieah and Robbeth.

With a yowl of Kath's voice, the battle commenced, and all teams' broke out into combat. For this team, it was Robbeth with the weapon – a smooth and sleek long black javelin studded with jewels near the rubber coated tips of the base for decoration.

For the first few moments of the fight, everything was quiet, and everyone was unmoving, circling around each other, then, Robbeth and Julieah burst into action, Robbeth aggressively attacking Cato with both his body and spear, Julieah tackled into Clove, and her smooth strength sent Clove tumbling to the ground, but Clove knew Julieah didn't expect her attack to work that well, and probably was still in shock. She also knew that if she stayed for a second longer, it would be enough time for Julieah to gather her wits and permanently hold her down, and Clove knew she wouldn't win that battle.

So sharply, Clove flexed and kicked her opponent in the shins, giving her enough time to effectively slither out from underneath her as Julieah's knees buckled. Then Clove was in an awkward position. She was kneeling on her knees, beside a buckling Julieah that wouldn't last long. Julieah was much stronger and taller than Clove, and instinctively Clove knew close range combat wasn't going to work in this fight. Not when Julieah was capable of bringing down Clove with one hand.

Clove stole a quick glance at her partner, Cato, and saw that he was being forced back on the very edge of the gym mat, sweat visibly evident on his brow as he tried to par Robbeth's sharp thrusts with his spear. It seemed they were evenly matched – perhaps even worse than their opponent team. _Definitely worse_, thought Clove was Julieah tackled into her, and drew her to the ground once again with an almighty thump. Sharp pain radiated through Clove's back, along with shock, she had made up her mind by now; to stay away from close combat, and so she had to get out of there – and fast. With all her strength, she managed to heave Julieah's body partially of hers, Clove quickly scrambled up, backing into the corner vertically opposite Robbeth and Cato, watching as Julieah raced closer, hands rolled into fists that looked ready to exchange blows – painful blows.

It was almost out of pure instinct and luck, or maybe the fury of being prey instead of predator that bubbled at Clove's stomach, but as Julieah neared Clove, she somehow, and automatically, spun around and using that momentum, jumped and hit her full in the face with her leg. Heavily breathing, and hardly believing it, but enjoying the flow of adrenaline and happiness that came with injuring someone too much to think, Clove turned and grabbed the back of Robbeth's collar, thrusting him forward and causing him to stumble headfirst into Julieah. Cato missed not a second, as he came crashing on top of them both, and held down Robbeth with his sword diagonally across his chest, prohibiting any chance of him getting up – almost like locking him in position with an iron cage across his chest. Taking advantage of Julieah's surprise and shock, Clove lunged and the full brunt of her attack hit Julieah fair and square in the chest, as Julieah snapped back and the moment her back touched the ground, Clove knew they had won.

When all the matches were over, Cato and Clove got up and released a grumbling Julieah and Robbeth. But when they shook hands, Clove could see a steely glint in both of their eyes, and she knew that they knew, they should've rightly won, and that it was only Clove's lucky tackle that caused victory. They've been taken out too early, reflected Clove as she watched them grace the mats where the losing teams all sat, they could've lasted far longer into this competition, some of the remaining teams are not as good as them.

"Ready?" Asked Cato and Kath announced them to pick their next pair.

"You pick this time." Said Clove, nodding at him.

Clove watched as Cato strolled to the nearest couple, and almost frightened the wits out of them as he tapped the boy's shoulder, and demanded they verse. The boy was short and stringy, but something about him made Clove think twice about underestimating him. He had made it this far afterall. His partner was someone Clove recognized as Diva, one of the popular girls along with Opal at Ares Academy, and the pair of them had been quite nice to Clove, and didn't isolate her as much as the other peers within the grade. However, they fell out of contact as they got older, and Clove couldn't remember the last time they'd spoken. Maybe four – five years ago?

"Clove," Greeted Diva, smiling cheerily at her as they took their places on the mat.

"What happened to Opal?" Questioned Clove instantly, taking a quick look around and not seeing the familiar brown eyed brunette anywhere around.

"She didn't make it." Said Diva, her voice stumbling quietly on those words. It took Clove quite a while to comprehend what she meant, and when she realized Diva meant Opal didn't make it into the Ares Training Academy. She didn't say anything. Diva and Opal were one of the few people who didn't try to tease her or rub pain and hurt in her face back at Ares Academy, and Clove was going to return that shiny piece of decency.

"Ready?" Announced Kath suddenly, and everyone quietened down, read to verse.

Clove noted it was Diva who had the weapon – a long hooked scythe, which although Clove knew to be harmless, looked quite scary and menacing, especially in the casually skilled manner in which Diva wielded it, Clove knew she must've been quite experienced with the scythe. Like herself and her knives.

"Set! Go!" Roared Kath, and instantly everyone exploded into combat. Diva charged forward, and before Clove could comprehend anything, she had the curved blade of Diva's scythe rapidly hurtling towards her neck, ready to hook it within its grasp. But at its last second, Cato charged forward and blocked the blow with such force that the wood splintered and the handle of the weapon snapped in two. Splintered wood debris fell to the ground. Fighting stopped momentarily as all four of them stared at the broken weapon, unsure what to do and whether it was allowed or not.

"What happened here?" Asked a voice, as Kath and Jul strode towards them. Kingsley was off attending a kid in the distance who was bloody all over.

"The weapon's broken." Replied Diva after a slight pause.

"Fool! You think I can't see that myself? What I want to know is, who broke it, which one of you two originally had it, and what happened in the lead up to the weapon breaking so I can determine whether it was cheating or not!" Spat Kath, jabbing a finger sharply at Diva and the boy, whose name Clove didn't know.

"Well, I originally had it ma'am." Diva replied.

"And I broke it. Sorry I was originally trying to block it from hitting my partner over there." Said Cato, pointing to Clove, "And then it just snapped…"

"Hmm, I think I remember seeing that scythe around several years prior. Always knew it was a rubbish brand. Must've been the reason it snapped. Well, it's not cheating, and neither of you will be disqualified, however, to make things fair, we're going to have to get – what's your name boy?" Asked Kath, looking at Cato.

"Cato." Replied Cato.

"We're going to have to get Cato to put down his sword for his match. Now, get back to fighting!" Instructed Kath, turning and walking away.

"And if I were you, I'd kick that broken old scythe out of the way," Announced Jul, regarding them closely with his shadowy brown eyes, before walking away.

Diva kicked at the broken bits of equipment, and Clove watched as Cato bent down to help remove the majority of the debris off the gym mat, before they got in position again.

This time though, Clove knew they had a considerable advantage. Diva and her partner weren't shrivelled up shrimps, but they weren't as big and tall as Cato and Clove, and in close range hand to hand combat, it was usually the biggest and heaviest that won.

"Remember our sword fight?" Said Clove before the fight began, Cato looked over at her and nodded a yes.

"We crashed into each other right? Well let's…" Clove turned her back a bit, so Diva and her partner wouldn't see, and she motioned for Cato to tackle from behind the opponent, and for herself to tackle from the right side of the opponent because usually when someone was hit with a force they couldn't deflect they would instinctively dodge to whichever side they wrote with. Clove knew she was taking a big gamble here, as not all of her opponents would be right handed, but she knew the majority of people were, and if she predicted correctly, either one of Diva or her partner would be directly in Clove's tackling range with little time to dodge after they dodged Cato, and she would be able to take them down easy.

Cato nodded at Clove to show he understood, and as Clove turned back to face the opponents, she caught a flash as both of them separated – looks like they weren't the only pairs sharing tactics before the battle.

"You ready?" Diva asked, with an edge to her voice, perhaps she had caught onto their imminent disadvantage.

"More than ready," Responded Cato.

"Count down to three?" Suggested Diva's partner.

"Sure, one," Said Clove, eager for the battle to begin.

"Two," Said a less eager Diva.

"Three," Shouted Diva's partner immediately after, earning them a split second advantage as Clove and Cato hadn't predicted the countdown to end like that, however, Diva wasn't one to play against the rules and she quickly flashed him a scowl, which took up their split second advantage, before lunging at Clove.

Clove had just enough time to comprehend the attack from the flash of Diva's shoes and the outstretched arms of her opponent, her left leg shot back automatically and took the full brunt of Diva's attack, leaving them both standing. A split second past, then Diva burst into a sharp pull to the side, and Clove realized both her arms were locked around the wrist by Diva's hands, and that Diva had side stepped into a defensive position so Clove couldn't attack her if she tried. Then Clove stumbled, hearing her footsteps echo loudly in her ears, the world flashed by in a spinning blur of colours, and the gym mats loomed increasingly closer.

Just as she felt a foot on her back, Clove shot out a hand, feeling the fuzziness of the gym mat beneath her fingers before she flipped using that hand to propel herself from the ground, and regained her balance. From there she could see Diva's partner leading Cato around the mat with what looked like a seemingly mad goose chase except for something strange which Clove couldn't put her finger on. Diva stumbled from Clove's sudden up burst as her foot had been resting on her back, and that gave Clove enough time to tackle and get Diva into a good lock, the fuzziness of the mat met their backs and sweat poured off their foreheads as their battle turned basically into a wrestling match.

But Clove couldn't concentrate properly, she kept remembering Diva's too direct, _too_ definite lunge towards her at the beginning, and her partner's lack of hesitation as he ran around the square of the mat, leading Cato into a wild goose chase – these actions and movements were too direct and confident to be split second decisions, no, they were pre-planned. But what would someone Diva's partner sized be doing picking on someone almost Cato sized? Surely that was simply fighting a losing battle, unless. Suddenly it became crystal clear, Diva's partner was never ever intending to _fight_ Cato, surely it was obvious in a match between them, Cato would win. No, he appeared to be leading Cato into some kind of trap, and he knew Clove would attack him the instant he appeared to be provoking Cato, so Diva jumped on Clove to keep her at bay. Diva's attack was simply just a step in their full plan, and Clove supposed after Diva took her out, the both of them would take on Cato together, and with that, they might have stood a chance. Now that she had this in mind, Clove found the motivation and knowledge she needed to keep going, she jumped up, and shouted with all her might at Cato,

"No! Don't go following after him!"

Cato paused but didn't stop completely; he still kept a light jog around Diva's partner as he spluttered, "What?"

And suddenly Clove realized the whole of the grade was staring at her, and Diva's full body weight collided into Clove's back as Diva threw herself at her, but Clove was prepared. She grasped Diva's arms, rolled around using the momentum Diva gave her, and deposited Diva on the ground – back on.

"Don't…follow him. He's got a plan, can't you see?" Clove swallowed and regained her breath, giving a rough edge to her voice as she said, "He can't overpower you or hurt you in any physical fight, so why's he provoking you? He's leading you into some trap."

There was silence as Cato registered this, and Clove noted everyone had finished with their fights and were watching them, similar to what happened to the girl with the whip. And suddenly, she felt empowered and excited, as if she had already volunteered in the Hunger Games, and there was her capitol audience. Every emotion, urge and desire fired up and intensified in Clove's body, and she suddenly found herself very eager to finish the fight, in the most brutal, painful way possible. She only wished she had her knife with her.

"Okay," Cato said slowly after a moment of thinking, he stopped chasing Diva's partner with a regretful look on his face, right now Diva's partner looked scared, he his veins showed amongst his suddenly pale skin as he gulped and regarded Cato and Clove with wary glances from the far edge of the mat, seemingly knowing he was soon to be eliminated.

"So what do we do now?" Asked Cato.

"What we originally had planned," Responded Clove, with a flickering smile.

Cato mirrored that smile before charging heavily at their remaining opponent. Diva's partner took a startled dive to his right just as Cato neared them, and Clove tackled into him, and thumped him on the ground with a crash. She released her grip and got up off her knees after the teachers signalled the end of the match.

"Well done, now, due to unexpected injuries," Said Kingsley, glancing briefly around the room, from the bloodied mat to the boy who made the mat bloody, to Yancy's arm in its sling to Yvonne who was clutching an ice pack to her head, and to one or two more students with various injuries, "Not all winning teams would continue participating in the elimination contest. That leaves us with two teams, everyone, allow us to observe the by far victorious, Cato and Clove, Scavenus and Hesttie!"

Clove glanced around, and spotted the one remaining on a mat not so far away, Scavenus and Hesttie. Sure enough, Hesttie was playing with her whip while listening, she smiled a tricky smile at Clove as she caught Clove's glance. Clove quickly looked away.

"Now, they've both gotten to the stage they are at, by technique and tactic. I want you to observe their fighting, and see what you can learn from them. Last match was also brilliant, as both teams had tactics. Cato and Clove's one were pretty simple, but effective, very effective. See if you could guess what it was, but don't say it." Announced Kath, glancing at Hesttie and Scavenus. Hesttie rolled her eyes and continued playing absent mindedly with the ends of her whip. It was obvious she knew, thought she knew or didn't care what Cato and Clove's tactic was, and if it was the former of the three, then Clove knew they'd need to change tactics.

"Now, their opponents' team also had tactics. Can you spot them?" Asked Jul, nodding at the assembled crowd.

A girl named Gator raised her hand, "Vae was trying to lead Cato on a chase and then turn or change direction at the last minute, so Cato would crash into a wall?" She said somewhat hesitantly.

"And was it?" Kath looked at Vae and Diva.

"Um, sort of. I was there to hold Clove down so she wouldn't attack Vae back." Replied Diva.

"Not a bad job. Considering the height and weight difference going on there," Added Jul, nodding approval at Diva and Vae.

"We're nearly out of time too. Take your places, Cato, Clove, Hesttie and Scavenus. And feel free to cheer them on or boo them depending on their grade statuses seeing as in the Hunger Games support and sponsorship is also about status!" Announced Kath.

Kingsley glanced at the clock, and started the count down from ten, giving them just enough time to quickly whisper a tactic, but not over analyse anything.

"Any questions?" Questioned Cato, looking intently at Clove, Hesttie and Scavenus were also huddled together, whispering what was highly likely to be battle tactics themselves.

"Only one: old tactic or new tactic." Replied Clove, leaning in.

"What's wrong with our old one?" Asked Cato, "Oh – Time's running out," He whispered just as Kingsley hit five.

"Hesttie might've guessed it," Whispered back Clove really fast.

"Hesttie and Scavenus you mean? Why don't you mention him as well, he's also in the team."

"No! He could not be there today, and there wouldn't be a difference. Don't you see?" Said Clove, then she suddenly reached an epiphany, which she hurriedly whispered out, "Ignore him. He's the weak link of the team, he didn't contribute to their team's victory at all and he's unlikely to be a danger to either of us. We'll both attack Hesttie, and try to get her whip tangled up with your sword."

"One and a half," Announced Kingsley suddenly from his spot, perhaps reminding them tactic discussing time was nearly over.

"I could've thought of that myself, you know?" Cato said with a smirk as he took his position on the mat, sword ready in hand. Hesttie and Scavenus were also in position, though Scavenus didn't look too prepared.

"Arrogant," Said Clove in reply, also smirking at him. Just as Kingsley counted zero, Clove and Cato sprang into combat, and headed directly towards Hesttie, who gave a somewhat startled squeal as she probably wasn't expecting both of them, then tumbled and rolled past Cato and Clove. Arriving just behind them, and sending lashes of her whip to Cato's back.

Clove was ready to defend Cato's back, and possibly counterattack Hesttie when suddenly two pairs of hands grabbed a fistful of her Ares Training Academy uniform from behind, and pulled her backwards in a circle, before slamming her face on the mat. It was a weak slam though, and all the impact did was introduce Clove to the fuzziness of the mat, before she turned back around, with annoyance bubbling at the edges of her hands as she gripped Scavenus in a headlock, resisted the urge to squeeze hard, and dumped him back first on the ground. The audience gave what seemed like a groan of relief, like they were glad Scavenus was out of the tournament and therefore couldn't potentially injure himself, or his partner, the possibility that he might possibly injure Cato or Clove seemed out of the question with his weak fighting abilities.

Next it was Cato and Clove vs Hesttie, and despite the fact that Hesttie was outnumbered one to two, she was still a formidable force, and crackled her whips with such expertise, that at one point she almost had Cato lying back on the ground.

The roar of the watching crowd grew louder and louder as Hesttie advanced on Cato, looping her whips around him, hitting and pulling, until peachy lines of redness developed and encased Cato's skin, and the back of his neck and shoulders – which was coping the worst of the hits, swelled lightly. Clove tried to lunge in here and then, give a good kick or two, but Hesttie was just too good at defending herself, and redirecting Clove into Cato's direction that Clove was afraid to attack to her full extent in fear of injuring or accidentally attacking her own teammate. It seemed Hesttie was an extremely difficult force to beat, cheered on by the crowd who obviously preferred her to them.

"Hesttie! Hesttie! Hesttie!" They cheered, some clapping their hands and cupping their mouths to enlarge their voices.

Clove dived at Hesttie, just missing as her opponent did a timely jump and sent Clove crashing to the ground. This time the mat grazed her chin sharply - a guaranteed scar for the next week or so. Clove got up off the ground, feeling the prickles of pain still on her chin, and that was when she realized something different. The crowd had gone wilder, that was one, but the second – there was an eerie silence to the battlefield. Clove glanced up, and just saw the blur of Hesttie's body lunging towards her at the last second before she sprang away to the right, tripping over what was the form of Cato lying back down on the ground.

Clove gritted her teeth, deducing that Hesttie's targeting on Cato had finally achieved it's purpose and brought him down. And now Hesttie was purely going for her. A whip lash hit Clove's back and looped around her arm, where it stayed a mere second before pulling unnaturally tight, cutting off the circulation. Clove brought her left heel down on where Hesttie's foot was behind her, elbowed where she imagined Hesttie's stomach would be and heard a sudden 'oomph', before Clove bent over backwards, the world flashing with the blur of the ceiling lights, as she seized Hesttie's torso, and brought her in an arc in the air, before shoving her ungracefully upon the mats, also effectively releasing the whip's grip on her right arm in the process.

But Hesttie landed on her bum, meaning she still hadn't lost yet, and she lost no time in bouncing back up and lunging out with a tackle, but Clove prepared to that and blocked with her left hand just in time. A sudden bullet of pain hit her arm, as most of Hesttie's body weight slammed against it, Clove wasted no time in hitting back though. She circled Hesttie, continuously throwing out punches, and lunges, and ducking when appropriate. Perspiration glistened on her brow, as her muscles tensed with such length of fighting, Clove ducked once more, and prepared to roll underneath, spring up and grab Hesttie's torso as she threw her to the ground, on her back in victory, just as Hesttie did an unusual move with her whip, which forced Clove to jump and Hesttie tackled right into her once she landed.

The impact of the ground took all breath out of Clove, as an 'oomph' familiar to the one Hesttie gave escaped her body, soreness radiated through her tailbone, but once Clove registered she had landed on her tailbone and not her back, she sprang right up, and from where the spectators were sitting, it looked for a moment like Hesttie would just simply flick her back down, and triumph the whole series of matches, when Clove pulled the whip unexpectedly from Hesttie's grasp, flung it away and gripped Hesttie's ankle, where she one-handedly flipped her head over heels, and the moment Hesttie's heavily sweat-saturated back touched the ground –

It became evident who won.

Everyone, from the in-awe teachers, to the surprised students, to the teasing bullies who'd jeered at Cato or Clove that morning, to Amythest who had her mouth gaped open in surprise, to Yvonne to Molly, knew, at that moment, that Clove, and Cato, were a strong, speedy - _Lethal _– couple that should not be reckoned with.

And that thought – no, fact, continued to stick in their heads throughout all of their lives and as they grabbed their bags and left once the end of school bell sung its chorus of peals.

Clove and Cato got up, a bit more battered and bruised then they were this morning, but with no serious injuries, and walked to the table in the far off corner, where they retrieved their trophies, but what mattered was the memory, and what happened afterward.

Clove was putting her glittery gold trophy in her bag, her thoughts swimming around her head with emotions of happiness and triumph and surprise, and shock, and many more, when a shadow loomed over her. Clove looked up with a small smile on her face as she instantly registered it was Cato. "Shouldn't you be going home right now?" She asked, knowing he usually returned home after school from Ares Academy.

"What about you?" He questioned.

"I'm staying as I always do. For some extra practice, because you might never know when it'll come handy in the Games," Remarked Clove.

"And you know what? I think I might just join you."

A small, but tangible grin made its way to Clove's face, briefly reflected on Cato's before they began their journey through the numerous training equipment and techniques at Ares Training Academy that they hadn't countered before.


	11. AUTHOR'S NOTE

Dear readers,

As shown by the lack of reviews in this fanfiction, I've deduced that no one is really interested in the story. And to stop myself from the effort of typing out a chapter when no one is really going to read and review it, I'm going to discontinue this story.

~XxTigerlilyxX

Thanks for reading, and have a good day.


	12. Chapter 11

Lethal Romance:

Chapter 11:

**Author's Note: We have a lot of stuff to clear up. Okay, here goes…**

**In the last chapter I mentioned I wasn't going to keep updating anymore. Well, I've already given an explanation why but just to repeat and clarify that: It was because I wasn't getting a lot of feedback and reviews, and it seemed no one was paying attention to this story. It's disappointing to update and get zero feedback (which happened for chapter ten) and I don't think you would understand the crushing disappointment unless you've actually experienced it as an author. **

**However, and as a guest pointed out, this story isn't finished, and I did have chapters planned and storylines plotted before I quit updating, and I feel like finishing it now. I will keep updating until I get this story done and write all I want to write, but the length of time between updates will be variable. I also don't care how many reviews this story gets anymore (isn't that awesome? :P) but I would still like them. **

**~~XxTigerlilyxX**

"What is this madam," Asked Cato's mother as she ruffled Cato's hair. They were sitting in the grey-white room of the doctor's office in District Two, awaiting the diagnosis of Cato's peculiar sickness over the past few days. Cato had found that ever since that first day of school, he'd been feeling extremely sick with the common cold symptoms, some more intense than others, and an itchy soreness spreading across his arms and legs. He'd missed out on school for the last two days, and today the third – he was visiting the doctor's with his mother.

"It's a virus, we call it X virus because it only effects people with two X-chromosomes. A.k.a boys. Pretty much the two chromosomes put together generate these tiny cells which race through the body and are pretty much harmless, except when it comes in contact with the common cold, then there's a fifty percent they mutate into something called the X virus," Explained the doctor.

Cato's mother Sesame turned sleet white as she pressed a hand to her mouth, and then murmured, "And what, does it exactly do to the body madam?"

"Basically intensifies the common cold symptoms and may give chickenpox symptoms – such as high fever and skin irritation."

"That's it! Cato, show her your red marks," Exclaimed his mother, and Cato slowly pushed up his sleeves to reveal a line of small reddish dots trailing up his arms. "His got some on his legs as well," Added his mother.

"Well that's all normal. Any fever?" Questioned the doctor.

"Not last time I checked," Replied his mother, frantically feeling Cato's forehead at current. Cato clenched his jaw, and muttered through gritted teeth,

"Mum. It's okay, you don't have to fuss so much."

"He doesn't have fever," Announced Cato's mother rather triumphantly, completely disregarding Cato's last statement.

"Well that means it's not as intense as X virus sometimes is. You only get X virus once in your life, and from then you, you are immune. However, he'll have to be in quarantine for the next two weeks, absolutely no contact from any males unless they've been vaccined or have had the virus before. Oh, and here's some antibiotics. Take two a day after breakfast and dinner." Finished the doctor, scribbling a prescription on a sheet of paper before ripping it off and handing to Cato's mum, who stiffened for a moment, before hastily grabbing it and stuffing it in her bag.

Xxx xxx xxx

Later, at home, Cato was just eating his evening meal, which his mother insisted he had earlier than usual to avoid malnutrition which would possibly weaken his immune system as she'd reasoned. Cato was stunned; he didn't even know his mother had so much medical knowledge.

"Mum." Said Cato, while slicing a piece of chicken, and putting his fork through it, "Why are you so afraid of diseases and illnesses?"

His mum, Sesame, paused a bit before saying as sternly as Cato ever heard her say something, "Just eat your food and don't ask questions."

"But mum-"

"No questions."

Cato stopped, and didn't say anything as he raised more food to his mouth, finally his mother spoke. "If you must know, in my Hunger Games, there was a boy from district 5 – science, that used germ warfare against the Career Pack of the Games. I don't know how or where he obtained that virus, but all I knew was that there was a column of smoke rising from the east of our Career Camp, so we set off with weapons and left one person back at camp to guard everything, with the intention of killing whoever lit the fire. When we got to the fire site though, everything was deserted, and then a shower of smokey leaves fell on us, but not before the District Nine girl – who joined us that year because of her strength and skills with the crossbow, managed to get an arrow through his arm. Then he bounded away on the trees, and we were all coughing from the smoke. Later on, when we were back at Camp, we discovered symptoms amongst us careers, and everyone got sick and dizzy, and threw up for several days on end except for Mirimi, the District 7 girl who'd identified the virus as something quite common in District Seven that she'd caught once, and was then immune." Sesame paused a bit before continuing, with a faraway look in her eyes, "We deduced that the boy must've rubbed the virus on the leaves or something, and the virus was probably able to be caught through breathing in the air around the leaves, anyway, everyone with the exception of Mirimi caught it. Even Katar, who was on guard duty at that time."

"Thyianna – District 1 female, Marl – District 4 male, and…and my district partner all died from it. The rest of us survived, but barely, and we were all on our deathbeds due to dehydration and starvation as we barely kept anything down." There Sesame paused a bit, as if she was unsure of what she wanted to say. Her eyes darted around, and she leaned in close, her eyes locking in on Cato's, as she whispered the words of a life lesson, "Don't. Whatever you do. Don't trust the capitol or anyone in the Games. They're all emotionally scarring, and most victors have one or two severe phobias or triggers of insanity after the Games. Trust me. I've germophobia." And with that Sesame pulled away, and walked from the room, telling Cato to finish his meal or else, and happily joking about one thing or another. Her façade back on again.

Xxx xxx xxx

Throughout the next week or so, Cato had been exempt from school, with the reason of quarantine. His father had had X virus before so he'd been allowed to see him, but for most of the day – he was at work in the mines, and Cato had become increasingly bored. He also wondered what was happening at school, and what he was missing out on. He wasn't that afraid he'd fall behind in training, because he'd always been miles ahead of everyone else, he was just thinking about the actual schooling where they learned English, history, mathematics and basic science. The actual schooling took place between nine to three o clock, however, after that there were two hours of career training, and for the older years that were considering volunteering – extra hours in the morning or on the weekends. The training academies had always been underground to prevent detection, as training for the Games was not allowed by the capitol, however they'd so far been a little lax about District Two's, and probably District One and Four's training Academies, and almost everyone in the District knew that the Capitol knew they secretly trained, but just didn't do anything about it. Probably because we put on a good show, thought Cato, afterall, we are the trained ones that can murder accurately with weapons and put on a good bloodbath for the audience, and he felt a roaring surge of pride at that.

One afternoon, Cato was just sitting by his bed, feeling incredibly bored. There were numerous swords hung around his room that he'd obtained from several special occasions, and each had a special memory attached, but after contemplating and remembering those happy times when his father handed him a sword for his birthday, or when he did something that made him proud, for the first few days of his sickness, the novelty had really leeched out of them. Just as the clock struck four, and Cato was about to doze off in a light sleep, there was the faint sound of bells in the wind, a comforting echoing melody, and then the door slammed open and Cato's mother's voice hurriedly snapped Cato out of his blissful near-sleep mood.

"Mmm, mum?" He muttered, sitting bolt up.

His mother stepped in the room a little more and announced, "Cato there's a girl here to see you."

"What?" Spluttered Cato before he could help himself, feeling adrenaline rushing through his veins, and energy creeping its way from the bottom of his toes up to the tip of his forehead, happiness mingled in the equation as well.

"Brown haired, short brown eyed gi-"Started his mother but Cato interrupted.

"Must be Clove," He said, feeling the slither of sheets fall away from his body as he jumped out of bed, more energized than what he'd been the whole week, and grabbed some clothes to put on over his pyjamas so he wouldn't look ridiculous.

In the midst of all his excitement, Cato's mother's voice cut through his, it's stern demanding tone making a curious fuzzy green feeling rise in Cato's chest, one that made him want to keep it all to himself as she raised her eyebrows and said, "You have a lot of explaining to do."

Cato only grunted non chantedly as he brushed past her, and true to his thoughts, there was Clove, looking a little uneasy standing in an unfamiliar household, fingering the straps of her schoolbag, and Cato was thankful she didn't have her knife in sight; that would surely make a bad first impression on his mother.

"Cato, are you alright? I heard you were sick." Said Clove, genuine concern seeping into her voice as she regarded Cato with a sympathetic look.

"Yeah, I was. What did I miss out on at school?" Replied Cato, gesturing for her to come upstairs.

"Nothing much. We had to write an exposition on an important memory during creative writing today," Clove wrinkled her nose in distaste, "I used my pencil to stab people instead. And there was no training because there was a huge blackout at the training centre. They couldn't even get the doors open because they functioned on electricity." She finished.

"No wonder why you came early."

"Yeah, I also came to check up on you. See that you were doing alright." Said Clove, with a flash of tenderness from her murky black eyes. Cato felt quite shocked as he led the way up to his room.

When he opened the door, sunlight streamed in through the open window and glinted off several bronze swords in the corner, entering his eye with annoying brightness. Cato blinked several times and shrugged it off as he entered, but when he turned around, he saw Clove's mouth agape in fascination as she surveyed his room, her eyes landing on his sword collection and staying for several long moments.

Unsure of what to say, Cato just crossed over to them and pulled out a sword – it was the sleek silver claymore sword he got when he was nine. The handle was bronze gold in colour, and had an opal hammered into it. A dark swathe of forget-me-not blue that was his eye stared back at him. Cato blinked as he remembered how he hated the sword when he first got it, and kicked up a fuss as he thought jewels were childish and girly.

He felt Clove's gaze glued to the sword and him, he turned around, not quite sure what to say. Their eyes met, and Cato pushed the sword into Clove's palm, suddenly wanting to share an aspect of himself with her. "This is my sword. I got it when I was nine. Dad got it especially made for me. He says jewels show off your wealth but at first I hated it."

A small smile suddenly erupted from Clove's face as she considered that,

"And this is my scimitar sword. It's a very good brand. My dad brought me that when he found out I got in Ares Training Academy. Even though we all expected it."

Suddenly he found his history was begging to be poured out. "And this is one of my shortest swords. It was my first one that I got when I was seven. Thought it was the coolest thing there was," Cato said, pulling out a sleek and silver lightweight sword which he gave to Clove to examine. Clove grabbed the it, looked at the blade and brought it down from the air in mock battle, her eyes alit with some kind of fascination. Cato smiled upon seeing her like that.

"Are you going to write about it for your important memory assignment?" Questioned Clove, giving him another smile.

Cato frowned, "I have to do it?" He said.

"As homework yes, Mrs Tangz said so. That was partly why I came over. To drop of your homework. Oh, and I brought you something." Added Clove, dumping a stack of papers and a brown paper bag into Cato's arms.

Cato walked over to his desk, and put the papers down while he opened the packet. Inside were two delicate looking spiral rolls pleasantly overcooked and laced with cinnamon. A fat bunch of green grapes sat in the corner of the bag, waiting to be eaten. Cato smiled, "You make me feel so much better you know?" He said, putting it by his bedside table.

Somehow, they'd made themselves comfortable sitting on his bed in the next half hour, and munching on the cinnamon buns and grapes, reading through his assignment and Clove helping him by asking questions about his past. Cato opened up, and found himself delighting in talking with her, and it seemed all too soon the sun was setting, and the sky stained factory smoke black. Darkness beginning to descend on all the surrounding houses, and creep along the corners of his bedroom. The swords once bathing and reflecting of bright sunlight were drenched in darkness, their silver blades slightly lighter than the dark around them. Somehow, it gave them a more menacing look.

"That's brilliant! I never knew your favourite colour was red." Said Cato, still absorbed in their conversation.

Clove smiled, "I like vibrant red best, even though I pretend I like blood red sometimes."

"Why?" Asked Cato with a frown.

Clove shrugged, "Don't trust people not to poke fun of me." She said, "So what's your favourite colour?"

Cato paused to think. There was grim grey, a mixture of black and white usually seen on blades of swords, but with that came the mustiness of sweat and hardship in his mind, even though he was better than most at the hardship of swords, he still thought it brought on too many memories and pressures for him to enjoy it properly. White also spoke out to him, white – the colour of his bedroom ceiling, the white tabletops his mother always wiped profusely. But white was too boring, too controlled, instead he found himself thinking blue. Not just any blue – celadon blue, with its deep but not too deep hue dripping and enveloping the swathe of white in his mind eye. Cato turned to Clove and admitted something he'd never let anyone else hear for fear of reputation loss, "I think celadon blue because it's the colour of the sky, and the sea, and it means nothing. Just peace."

A tangible moment flew by, as Clove digested that. It was something Cato had never told anyone.

"That's okay. But I can't imagine a world where there is just peace." Muttered Clove quietly, "It's just…" Suddenly she caught sight of the time on Cato's bedroom clock, "I should be going. It's getting dark." She said.

"Do you want me to walk you back?" Asked Cato, getting up as Clove did so.

"No. I'm fine. But thanks for everything." She said.

"No. Thank you." Cato replied back.

"So, when are you coming back to school?" Clove asked.

"Start of next week. I'm still in quarantine for the rest of this current one." Cato replied with a sign.

Clove smiled at him just one more time before she disappeared out his door, and the darkness enveloped her. Cato stared after the space she just left, his heart thumping in his chest. Finally he walked back into his room and continued on with homework.

A while later…

It was dark, and the night outside a smothering curtain of black. The only source of light being the lights in Cato's room.

His mother walked in, with a similar expression on her face to the one she wore when she said 'you have a lot of explain to do' the first time Clove walked in. Cato felt a fuzzy green feeling as he turned around to face her.

"So, I think you have some explaining to do." She said abruptly.

He said nothing.

"Who is this girl, Clove? Do you have anything to do with her?" She asked.

Again, silence, until, "Cato. Answer me."

"Her name's Clove. She's … Kegger the victor's daughter." He replied.

"Right. And do you have anything to do with her? You know…" Cato's mother raised her eyebrows as she said this.

Suddenly Cato jumped up, feeling like he wanted to keep Clove to himself and himself only. "No! She is _**my**_ friend, and mine only! You don't get to know her, and what she's like!" He yelled, watching his mother for a moment, before she accepted it with a snap of her teeth and walked away.

Cato stared after her, chest heaving, eyes feeling sore as he rubbed them and turned back to his desk. Was he feeling jealousy for the first time? But for there to be jealousy there must've been feelings…


End file.
